Happily (N)ever After
by Somepersonwithapencil0315
Summary: I know, the title is a BIT overused and cheesy but I ran out of ideas. I just couldn't find a better name...or take my time to think of one. Now here's my sum. It shouldn't surprise Dean this much that fairytales are real. He hunts monsters and demons and just about anything he viewed as evily unnatural. But no matter how much he sees Snow White, it still won't go through his head.
1. Chapter 1

**Dean**

"So, 'nother Wendigo?" Dean asks his brother as he drives down a dark, lonely highway with his headlights serving as his only light in the darkness.

"Looks like. Winter's coming. Chill is starting to come in; and three people are missing in a week and have all been reported in a _forest_. I don't know about you but this sounds like our kind of thing," Sam explains, listing off clues out of a newspaper he got recently. Sam takes out a highlighter and starts to highlight things and writing down notes.

Dean smirks at his brother. _Dork,_ he thinks, his eyes resting on the road.

"And where is this at, exactly?" Dean questions.

"Down at Comer, Georgia," Sam says, seeming completed the highlighting and folding the newspaper up, stuffing it in a compartment.

"All right, where are we now?" Dean asks.

"I don't know. I haven't seen a road sign since we left the last town and my cell doesn't get reception here," Sam explains.

"And that was…"

"Three hours ago?" Sam responds.

Dean checks his watch. "Huh," he whispers, dumbfounded and looking at his brother. "Well, I'll be damned. Where the hell are we?"

As they face a couple of minutes of silence, the sudden _beep_ of Dean's EMF detector startles the two. Dean curses, daring to look back and separating his eyes from the road for barely a second when Sam suddenly tenses.

"Dean, look out!" Sam shouts, looking at the road with panicked eyes.

Dean turns back to the road, his hands on the wheel losing control for a second to look for the cause of Sam's panic. He squints, finally regaining partial control of the wheel when he sees what's on the road. It's a coyote.

"Dean, move!" Sam says.

He swerves the car, aiming to hit the brakes but hits the accelerator instead. He never actually wanted to do that but Sam's urgency made Dean feel like he was gonna run over a three-year old child instead of a wild coyote. It's not like he wouldn't feel guilty, but he wouldn't be as sorry as he would be if it were a kid.

The Impala smashes into a road sign, the first one they stumble upon. The sound of glass breaking and metal groaning tortures Dean's ears, nearly making him deaf.

His head makes contact with the steering wheel and an explosion of pain spreads throughout his head. Bright lights dance across his vision, taunting him in his pain.

His head bounces back to the seat and he groans, holding it, the lights still apparent.

"God dammit!" He mutters, opening his eyes despite the pain.

His vision is doubled and blurry, and his head throbs in agony. He huffs out a breath and moves his leg out the window, sucking in a breath as he does. He sticks out another and stands.

He cries in pain, his knee giving out under him as an agonizing pain strikes his leg. He looks down. Blood splatters all over his jeans and his leg is probably broken or fractured. Other than that, the rest of him doesn't seem to have suffered any _serious_ damage.

He looks at the front of the car. It's completely totaled.

"Son of a—" he mutters, looking around for the coyote. He slams his fist down on the Impala. "Dammit!"

He turns to look at the sign. It reads 'Storybrooke'.

He winces. It sounds like some sort of new segment in Disneyland. "Storybrooke? Really?"

"Sammy!" he calls. "We're in Storybrooke! I crashed into the damn sign."

As he waits for Sam to reply, he wipes a hand down his face as. His whole hand is covered in blood.

"Sammy?" he calls, his heart speeding up.

He looks through the window to see Sam unconscious, his face splattered with blood and his nose most likely broken.

"Sammy?!" Dean cries, limping to the other side of the car. He checks for a pulse around Sam's neck, making sure that he doesn't confuse his own racing blood with Sam's. He catches a bit of a pulse, feeling it but it barely pumps. Sam's breathing is ragged, shallow and slow.

"Sammy?!" Dean shouts, shaking him in hopes that he'll wake up. "Sammy!"

He looks at the sign again. Town can't be that far away.

"Don't worry Sammy. I'll get you help. I promise," he says, limping backwards for one last glance at his little brother and then limping away, in search for help.

* * *

**Emma**

Emma sits at the bar at Granny's, another celebration going on. Everyone's there; Mary-Margaret, David, the dwarfs, Ruby, Ashley, Henry—everyone.

Emma smiles. She's still not used to the whole "family" or "fairy-tales being real" concept.

"Mom!" Henry calls, happily. Emma looks over to see a grinning Henry beckoning her to come.

"What?" she asks, standing up and walking over.

He holds out a plate with strawberry cake on it. "Want some?"

She shakes her head, scrunching up her nose at the cake. It's not that she hates it, she's perfectly fine with cake, but she just doesn't have the stomach for it now. The thought of Jiminy Cricket sitting next to her makes her insides quiver with nervousness, and adding cake to the mixture wouldn't make a good outcome. "No thanks, Henry. I'm good."

Emma takes a sip of her beer as she sits back down on the bar stool.

She looks around, seeing everyone smiling; even Leroy puts on a smirk for tonight. It gives such an illusion of perfection that seems like it's impossible to break. _But it is, sometime,_ she thinks.

"Mom!" Henry calls and his tone...is not happy.

She turns in her stool and stands up, walking over to him. He's pressed against the window, looking outside while everyone's talking. She's just glad that he's not pressing his face against it like he usually does.

"What?" she asks, coming up behind him.

She looks outside, curious as to what he sees. A movement catches her eye and she freezes, every muscle in her body stiffening.

A limping shadow stumbles on the sidewalk, the limited light not letting her see his face. Suddenly, all the people inside, chatting and having a good time, is just a background noise to the suspense building inside of Emma.

She quietly watches as the shadow comes within view of the window. It walks on the shaded side so Emma _still_ can't see his face. All she could tell of the shadow is that it was a guy.

The shadow finally approaches the door and Henry walks over to stand beside it. After Emma processes what he just did, it swings open.

The noise of everyone immediately stops and a small amount of gasps float into the suddenly tense air. Emma turns and freezes in shock, watching in horror at what's in front of her.

You remember about the perfection she mentioned earlier? Yeah, that time is now broken. It came quicker than expected.

It's a man, coated in blood and his leg standing at an awkward angle. His eyes are wide in fright and shock. Panic makes his whole body tremble.

"H-help!" he gasps, stumbling inside.

Emma realizes what Henry just saw and sees that he stares at the man wide-eyed and practically traumatized. Emma pulls him away, behind her as he stuffs his face into her back and holds onto her tightly.

As the man stumbles farther in, everyone backs away, staring at him as if he's an alien from some other world instead of a guy that's most likely from out of town that probably got into some freak accident.

It's been a long time since Emma has seen anyone from outside the town before. And since the curse doesn't let anyone in or out of Storybrooke, she's ashamed to say that she's more curious about who the hell he is and what he's doing here than what happened to him.

"Who are you?" Emma asks cautiously as the man stumbles farther into the diner, stopping for a bit to lean on a table.

The man smirks the slightest bit, chuckling. "Huh. You'd think the best question would be 'what happened'?"

Emma rolls her eyes but still stares at the man. The man stumbles away from the table, leaving blood stains on it and Ruby cringes, obviously knowing she'll have to clean that up later.

"W-well what happened?" Archie asks, a glass of beer in his hand.

The man smiles, a pained one. "That's the question I'm looking for. Can I have that?" The man asks, pointing to the beer in Archie's hand and takes it before Archie even mutters a word. He gulps it down, setting it on the bar. "We crashed."

"_We_?" Henry asks from behind Emma.

Even though Emma can't see it, she could still feel that everyone else is just as shocked as she is at the fact that not just one, _but two_ outsiders got into the Storybrooke boundary.

_How the hell did he_ _even_ get_ here?_ Emma thinks.

"Yeah. My brother and I were just about to pass through. Then I swerved…and crashed," he admits reluctantly.

As a silence falls all over the diner and Emma, knowing that no one else has the guts to say something, opens her mouth.

"A-alright. Let's get you to the hospital," she says, reaching out to put her arm under his shoulder.

"No, no," the man says. "No hospital, no help. I'm fine. My _brother_ is out there, unconscious and he needs my help. I'll show you where we crashed."

"You _need_ medical attention!" Dr. Whale says, but by the glint in his eye, Emma knows that that's not the only reason he wants the man under _his_ medical attention.

"I'll be fine!" the man suddenly shouts. "Just _help_ my brother and _then_ you can help me."

Emma looks at him. He's not gonna budge.

"Listen, your leg is most likely broken and you can't walk much. Let's just—" Dr. Whale begins.

"No, let him. I'm pretty sure he's not going anywhere without his brother," Emma says, looking at the man.

The man smiles, a pained one.

"Thank you," he says, getting up and limping as he sucks in a breath.

"And where do you think you're going?" Mary-Margaret asks.

"Showing you where my most likely _dying_ brother is. C'mon, slowpokes!" He says, opening the door and limping out.

As no one else follows him, Emma sighs, walking forward, knowing she's gotta do this.

As she leaves, she could feel Henry follow, hearing his small footsteps behind her.

Emma turns to him, gently pushing him back.

"No, Henry. I don't want you to see this. If this guy is barely alive, I don't want you to see how his brother is," she says.

"But I want to help," he says, pouting.

"And you will. Just not right now. You could help his brother and him at the hospital," Emma reassures.

Henry frowns but nods, letting Mary-Margaret comfort him.

"C'mon, sister!" the man yells from the other side of the window of the diner.

Emma rolls her eyes at the man, kissing Henry's forehead and leaves Granny's, letting everyone discuss how on earth the man or his brother got in Storybrooke.

Emma jogs to catch up to the man, who limps the empty sidewalk on the dark, cold night. As they keep walking, they start to approach the exit of Storybrooke.

"I didn't catch your name," Emma says as she looks at the man limp, making sure he won't fall. She can't help but admire his sheer determination to find his brother.

"That's 'cause I never mentioned it," he says, turning his hazel eyes to her in a sideways glance.

"And what might it be?" she asks.

"Well, sheriff," he says, eyeing the sheriff badge on her belt. "I'm Dean. My little brother Sam is still in the car. I came to get help, not an interrogation."

Emma stays quiet, not sure of what to say next.

"And you are?" Dean questions, not looking at her.

_Something isn't right about this guy,_ Emma thinks as she eyes him warily.

"Emma," she responds, her answer short.

He glances at her. "You look like an Emma."

As it stays quiet, Emma decides to say nothing else, just keep on walking and looking at the ground. Then his footsteps stop.

She looks up at him to see his determination shattered into panic and shock.

"What?" she asks, looking at him. "What's wrong?"

"Sammy," he whispers, ignoring her. "Sammy!"

He starts to limp again, faster. As Emma looks forward to see what the heck he's talking about, she sees a completely totaled car. Based on the smoke coming out of under the smashed hood, it's new.

Dean limps to the passenger side of the car, approaching the door.

Emma jogs up to his side, her muscles freezing in horror once her eyes land on the sight.

The passenger door has a big, gaping hole. The metal stretches outward, as if something—something _big_—had pulled something out.

And the worst part is…there is no Sam.

Dean cries out, cursing.

"I knew it! I knew I shouldn't 've left him here! I should've waited for him to wake up! I-I should've…" Dean stutters, letting out another yell and slamming his fist down on the car, making Emma jump.

"Dean. Calm down…" Emma begins.

Dean turns around to the vast, dark forest.

"Sam! Sammy!" He calls, limping forward and into the forest.

"Wait! Dean, wait!" Emma shouts after him to see him a couple feet away, limping quickly. "Dean, come back here! You're hurt and it's late! You can't look for him!"

Dean turns to Emma, a cold look in his eye. "Watch me," he dares.

He turns back, limping faster.

"Dean!" she calls again, chasing after him.

He limps faster, almost falling. From what Emma can see, he's practically tripping over the ground. She doesn't know how he's still standing. Then he falls, a sickening crack reaching Emma's ears, making her stomach churn.

"Dean!" she cries, running to his side.

She reaches him to see him trying to crawl to look for his brother.

"Dean!" she says, shaking him by the shoulders. "Dean!"

He looks at her, his eyes panicked and worried.

"Dean. You can't. You just _broke _your_ leg _and it's freezing. I'll send out a search party and tow your car to look for any signs of who or what took your brother. I promise you that," Emma promises.

Dean's eyes soften, the sweat on his face mixing with his tears. Emma thought she'd never see such a tough looking guy…cry.

He nods, swallowing.

She lifts him up and, for the first time this night, he accepts her help, throwing an arm around her to let her help him with his bad side.

They walk passed the trashed car and Dean glances at it.

"If I ever see the coyote again, I'm gonna kill the damn thing," he mutters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiello, my pretties! I didn't get to leave an author's note for the first chapter so I decided to just go ahead and post the second chapter and write one.**

**So, the summary didn't give a bunch of details but here's my better summary.**

**Dean was driving along the road with Sam at his side, about to get on to another case when an accident happens and they're both seriously injured. Then, once Dean goes to get help, he meets a blond we all know and love, Emma, and...chiz goes down. Anyways, Sam's missing, a magical creature may be involved and a possible trip to a very familiar and not-thought-of-fondly-by-Emma place.**

**So, the unnecessary disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing**

**Creative criticism is welcome.**

* * *

**Dean**

He lays on the hospital bed, his calf in a cast that's cutting off his circulation to his foot and stitches on his arm, cheek and torso. They run in short, limited lines across his torso, the ones on his arm and cheek are a bit long but there's only one on each.

The doctor told him that his leg was fractured at first but, with all the stress he put on it, it eventually became a clean break. It was when Dean abruptly fell while attempting to look for Sam in the woods and an agonizing pain spread along his calf. Dean could feel the pain on its former spot, shivering at the sensation.

_Yeah,_ he responded when the doctor questioned if it was okay. _It hurts like a bitch but I'm doing swell!_

He watches Emma and all the other people that were at the party he interrupted gather outside his window in a tight-knit circle, avoiding the sight of him, arguing. _Well _that's_ odd,_ he thinks.

A small movement at the corner of the window catches his eye. His gaze leaves the arguing adults to a small figure at the bottom of the window. The brown hair and hazel eyes indicate that it was the boy that he saw yesterday, the one he most likely scarred for life with his injured, bloodied self. If Dean was him, he would've avoided himself as much as possible, not peeking at the man that looked near-death.

The boy's eyes widen, knowing that his cover's been blown but doesn't take his eyes off of him.

Just so he wouldn't freak the kid out, he smiles, waving his sore arm.

The boy's fingers peek from the window, giving a light wave, leaning his chin on the frame. Now Dean could see his whole face. They just stare at each other for a long moment when a nurse approaches his bed.

"Here you go, Mr. Crow," a nurse says, handing him a tray along with a cup of water.

He separates his eyes from the kid to face the nurse, smiling politely and taking the tray that has a container with a lid on it; a clear indication of mircowaved food. He cringes, sighing with distaste. It'll have to do. The only thing he had to eat lately was a breakfast burrito the day before the accident.

He lifts the lid, being greeted by mashed potatoes, gravy and roast turkey. He groans at the sight of the built-up moisture on the lid drip down on his food.

"_Bon appetite,"_ he whispers, ripping the plastic off the utensils and napkins and prepares to dig in.

"How did you get here?" a small voice from the side of his bed says, startling Dean enough to make him jump and drop his fork loaded with mashed potatoes and turkey.

"Gah-ah!" He stutters, the heart monitor hooked on him suddenly spiking.

"Sorry, Mr. Crow," the little voice says apologetically.

Dean turns his head to see the little boy from the window.

"Crap, you scared me kid," he says with a smile. The kid looks a little like himself when he was younger, the brown hair and hazel eyes. Dean picks up the fork again, shoveling some mashed potatoes and turkey in his mouth.

"So, what's your name kid?" Dean asks, swallowing the food and shoveling more into his mouth.

"Henry," the kid responds. "How'd you get here?" he repeats, taking a seat on the visitor's chair, eyeing Dean with curiosity.

Dean swallows, looking at Henry. He clears his throat.

"Hm, well…I….I—uh, I crashed here, with my brother…" he says, resting his fork on the platter of food in front of him.

"Where's your brother?" Henry presses, seeming bored with the information of Dean crashing just about a mile away from there.

Dean takes a deep breath through the nose, stalling to keep the information withheld for a while longer. "I…I left him to go get help. When I came back…he was gone," he says quietly.

A thick silence settle between the two.

"The irony, huh?" he says bitterly, shoveling more food in his mouth to have something to do.

"What did he look like, Mr. Crow?" Henry asks.

Dean smiles warmly at the kid. "Dean's fine, Henry," he says, ruffling up his hair.

Henry smiles. "Which one are you?" he asks. Dean furrows his brows for a moment, chewing on some turkey. He gives Henry a look of question and confusion. "What character are you?" Henry says, as if that would make the question seem simpler. "Are you a prince or…"

"A character of what?" Dean asks.

"Of this," Henry says, taking out a book from his backpack. Dean furrows his brows, his eyes scanning across the title on the leather. Henry hands it to Dean to let him inspect it closer. Dean feels the leather texture underneath his fingertips, reading the stamped words _Once Upon a Time._

"So," Deans fishes out, flipping through the pages, looking for interesting pictures. "A characters from here?"

Henry nods. "Yeah. Everyone here is a character. They were all trapped here until the savior came and broke the curse that kept them from our memories. Even though you aren't from here, maybe you're a character that was somehow...out of town. Or maybe you can _help_. We need a lot of that."

Dean looks at the boy curiously, his head tipped slightly to the side. "And how can you be so sure?"

Henry looks at him, mimicking Dean's action of tilting his head. "Because you seem different. And strangers don't just _come_ to Storybrooke."

"Don't or can't?" Dean asks.

"Don't," Henry says with finality.

Dean tilts his head, pondering at the sound of that. This kid says it seriously, like if it's real. Now, gods, demons and monsters he believes. Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella actually walking around in the world, doing who knows what, he doesn't. And the thing about no strangers coming here...he's there. He's pretty sure that he isn't Prince Charming or Aladdin so he's obviously a stranger. He doesn't mean to sound hypocritical, but there's a certain line that he only dares to look at when he's pushed too far.

"Could you give me some examples?" Dean asks.

Henry turns back to the window, seeing all the adults still argue. He points to Emma.

"That's my mom. She's the sherriff of the town but her role in the curse was being the savior. They might be hesitant to admit it to you since you're new and all but I trust you," Henry says, looking at him. Dean takes his eyes off of Emma to look at the kid, the words striking a chord in him. A kid that he's barely met is telling him that he trusts him. He doesn't know why that means so much to him but it does. Ever since the boy he saved from the vengeful spirit in the lake many years back, he's had a soft spot for kids and Henry, a little eleven year old kid, is practically asking for Dean to hang out with him and giving him his trust on a silver platter. He doesn't what to feel but he can't help but smile at the kid.

"Oh, well, thanks, Henry. I don't really get a lot of people's trust these days," he says. He looks back at Emma. "So, she's the savior?"

Henry nods. "Nobody can just _pass_ the Storybrooke line. They have to be someone with roots here."

Dean shakes his head, letting out a breath. "Oh, well, just before I tell ya who I am, can I get another example of a cursed person?"

Henry looks back at the small, tight-knit circle with Emma and points to a pale woman with raven hair cropped closely to her head.

"That's Mary-Margaret—A.K.A. Snow White," he says. He points to a tall man next to her. "That's David—Prince Charming."

He turns back to Dean but Dean still stares at the two people that Henry claimed to be fairytale characters. _Ah, the kid's just playing,_ Dean tells himself, ignoring the knot in his gut and the voice in his head telling him that something might just be happening here. _If he is playing, the kid's got a hell of an imagination,_ it tells him.

"Makes sense," Dean mutters. He looks back down at the book.

"Who are you, Prince Phillip? Even though mom said he died in the Enchanted Forest, you may be him when he's here," Henry suggests.

Dean looks at Henry strangely. No, Dean is not the princely type, nor will he ever will be. He's just not a prince. He can't be a knight in shining armor either but he could be something close to that.

The sudden memory of the huntsman comes to Dean, making him wonder if he's in the book. Even though the huntsman tried to kill Snow White, he let her go.

"How 'bout the huntsman?" he asks.

"You can't be Graham," Henry says, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

_Okay, huntsman is taken,_ Dean thinks. _How 'bout I tell him something different?_

"No, I mean _a_ huntsman. Like a hunter," he says.

Henry tilts his head in curiosity, sounding intrigued.

"A hunter?" he asks.

Dean nods his head cautiously, trying to piece what he's about to explain together. "Yeah… a hunter. I was a buddy of his, like, hunter society buddy thing? Yeah, I was a part of that."

Dean shoves mashed potatoes and turkey in his mouth and chews slowly, giving himself more time to think.

"Really?" Henry gasps, looking excited. "I didn't read that in the book."

Dean smiles, swallowing his food. He leans in close to Henry. "This is top secret stuff I'm telling ya kid. Don't go around telling just anyone."

Henry nods, leaning in closer in his seat.

"I'm not just any hunter," Dean says. "No. I'm a hunter of the supernatural."

"Supernatural?" Henry questions.

"Yeah, like, y'know...monsters and stuff," Dean says.

"Monsters?!" Henry gasps, his expression brightening and perking up at the mention of the name. "You mean like the ones that Mulan and Belle were after? Except he turned out to be Prince Phillip, but like that?"

Dean shrugs. "In a way."

"Cool!" Henry exclaims, laughing and asking questions immediately, greedily drinking in the answers Dean gave him. He answers the questions gladly, chuckling himself sometimes. The sad truth is that, unlike his story book, all the thinks he's talking about is real.

**Emma**

Emma turns away from the group meeting for a moment, turning behind her to call henry only to find that Henry's gone.

Panic surges through her for a split second as she looks left and right for her son. then she catches him in the place she wants him least to be in. With Dean in the recovery room.

Once she sees them both laugh, she calms down a bit. She watches as Henry looks up at him, smiling and excited.

Her eyes wander to Dean, looking at the cuts and scrapes on his face, tracing the stitches on his cheek with her eyes. She also can't help but notice that he also has perfectly muscled biceps and can only imagine the physique that hides underneath the blue hospital gown.

_Snap out of it!_ she scolds herself, shaking her head. She sighs, turning back to the situation at hand.

"There's a world of people out there who don't know who we are and that we exist. Why can't we just go out there and introduce ourselves?!" Leroy bursts.

"Because they don't understand. Humans are afraid of the unknown, it's been this way around here for centuries," Sister Superior explains.

"It's true," Emma butts in back into the conversation. "I didn't exactly automatically adjust to the idea of magic."

"So, what do we do about him?" Leroy asks. "Kick him out of town?"

"No!" Mary-Margaret objects instantly.

"Not in the condition he's in," David agrees.

"Besides, do you really believe that that's the right choice Leroy?" Archie asks, looking at him.

Leroy shrugs. "Could be?"

Then the door swings open, silencing everyone.

Emma turns to see Dean in a wheel chair with Henry holding the door open. The only sound in the air is the squeaking of the wheels stopping abruptly on the linoleum floor.

"Alright, little dude. Thanks for your help, but I've got it from here," Dean says, smiling at Henry.

Henry smiles back, moving aside as Dean rolls away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Emma demands automatically, crossing her arms.

Dean looks over his shoulder, turning the wheelchair a bit.

"Listen, I've had to go to the bathroom all day, sweetheart. Any directions?" he asks.

Emma flinches at the word 'sweetheart'.

Then Regina, the controlling one as always, speaks up. "There's a bathroom in there," she says, pointing to the other end of the recovery room through the window.

"Sorry, sister, but I don't particularly like being cooped up in a room," Dean responds.

Ruby rolls her eyes at everyone. "Go straight and take a left at the next hallway," she instructs.

Dean nods, flashing a charming smile.

"Thanks, doll," he says, rolling away after his gaze flickers to Emma.

Henry comes up to the groupd, smiling.

"What were you guys talking about?" Regina asks.

"Yeah, what were you talking about?" she questions.

"He was telling me who he was," Henry explains.

"We already know who he is," David tells Henry. "He's just Mr. Crow from the outside world."

"Not from here," Henry says, pointing to the ground. He lifts his book. "In here."

Everyone stays quiet.

"He's a hunter," Henry adds ever-so-helpfully.

"A hunter?" David asks.

Henry nods, content.

"Like Graham?" Archie asks.

Henry shakes his head. He checks back to where Dean left, making sure that he doesn't come back and looks around for any prying eyes. "No, not like him. He hunts monsters."

Emma's heart skips a beat and her breath hitches. Everyone else stays silent.

"What kind of monsters?" Mary-Margaret questions.

"Any kind of monster. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, specters...anything," Henry says, listing off each creature with his fingers.

Ruby growls. "Ugh, I don't like him."

Emma kneels next to Henry, making herself go down to his eye level. "Henry," she begins. "Monsters don't exist. Well at least those don't," she says, remembering the ogres.

"That's exactly what you said about fairytales," he counters, looking at Emma.

Emma looks at the rest, giving them a clear look of _Help me!_

Ruby clears her throat, looking at him. "I believe you Henry."

Henry turns to her, smiling. "You do?"

Ruby nods. "Yeah. As a werewolf, who am I to say that vampires and demons don't exist?" she asks, looking at everyone else.

Everyone shrugs and Emma runs a hand through her blond locks. _If vampires or demons or ghosts existed, the world would be in chaos right now, _she thinks. _Vampires can't exist!_

"Did he _say_ that?" Emma asks.

Henry nods, smiling. "He said the best way to get rid of a vamp is to behead them!"

Emma's eyes widen. "Alright, that's enough," she says with a forced smile. She turns to Mary-Margaret. "Snow, could you take him home?"

Mary-Margaret nods, taking Henry's hand and leading him out of the hallway with David close behind. Soon, everyone else parts, each giving her a look that tells her to decide.

She sighs heavily, sitting down on the chairs. Then the sound of a wheelchair wheeling towards her reaches her ears. She looks up to see Dean wheeling down the hall.

"So, what was the argument about?" he questions, crossing his arms. Emma can't help but stare at the leg that's elevated.

"Uh, you saw us arguing?" Emma asks.

He looks at her, raising a brow.

"It's hard to ignore a group of people who are saving loud words to each ther outside my window," he says, looking into the recovering room.

"Oh, well..." Emma says, trying to think about something to save her butt. "We were discussing the search party for your brother. We need a pictures, name and people who have the guts to go out there."

He looks at her, lookig grateful but he shakes his head.

"I prefer you _not_ do that. I'm the one who got him into this mess, the reason he's missing, and...I've gotta go find him," he says, looking deeply into Emma's eyes. "Alone."

"What?" Emma asks, shocked. "No, you're still healing. You can hardly walk and we still don't know what got your brother," Emma reassures, reaching out a hand.

He moves away from the outstretches hand, looking at the ground and glancing at her occasionally.

"Yes it is. if I didn't leave him, I could've stopped this all from happening," he claims.

"Then you wouldn't have been able to make it and it's not _ever_ wrong if you try to look for help. You did it to try to help your brother, but things just went a bit south there. If you stayed there until your brother woke up, that thing would've gotten you too."

Dean looks at her.

"Maybe that would've been the better option," he says.


	3. Chapter 3

**Emma**

She shuffles through some papers, stacking some in one pile and throwing others away. And the biggest pile is the one where she signs all the papers needed.

After hours roll on of her shuffling through papers, the sun sets in the horizon and exhaustion makes her mind foggy from all the reading. She hates it but truth is that she made herself exhausted on purpose, trying to get Dean's words out of her head.

_Maybe that would've been the better option…_

She tries not to feel anything but pity. She banishes sympathy, pain, understanding. But despite trying to avoid those feelings, she can't help but understand his pain. When you give up the will to live, when you'd rather live with something than not live without it at all. When you've hit that big of a low.

She groans, running a hand down her face and taking a deep breath, leaning back in her chair. It creaks and slides back lightly in its wheels.

She looks down at her hands, clenching them and fisting them.

She decides that it's time to cut this work day short and grabs the stacks, wrapping rubber bands around them and placing them in the first desk drawer. When she got around the third, her flashlight catches her eye.

What if she just searched the car? Would it hurt that much? Maybe Dean would actually be grateful if she does that, despite him saying that he'd rather not have her do it.

But she knows that that won't happen. She's only known him for hours, not even a day. But Dean doesn't strike her as the type of man that would be grateful for that.

Then again, she can't just let him do it himself. He's just a guy and he's in a freakin' hospital bed! It's not like he could just heal himself up and waltz around the forest or God knows where to look for his brother.

She sighs, grabbing he flashlight and her keys to the bug. She slams the drawer closed and stalking out of the office. She walks down the hallway that leads to the front door, slipping her arms into her leather jacket as she walks.

"I don't care what you say Dean. I'm gonna do my job, whether you like it or not," she says.

* * *

She stands in front of the completely crashed and smashed beauty. The sight that beholds her makes her wonder if Dean actually ran into a tree at full speed rather than an old, rickety sign. Seriously, how could a sign do this much damage?

She ducks under the police tape, getting a closer look at the transition of a somewhat unharmed back door to a total mess. She hisses at the thought of having felt that if she was the car. It might seem like a stupid thing to think about but giving the fact that she's trying to distract herself from the incident at hand—with Dean and all that—thinking about this is easier than sympathizing with the new guy in town.

It might seem selfish and cruel that she's trying hard not to sympathize with the guy, but sympathy usually leads to friendship and friendship leads to bonds and bonds (at least with a guy like Dean around) leads to relationship and relationship leads to heartbreak. She does _not_ want another heartbreak. Besides, if she ever was in one with Dean, he's going to find out about Henry's "game" being more real than not and he's obviously going to leave just like Neal did.

Now back to the matter at hand, she stands up straight and mutters to herself, "Well, shit Dean, did you hit a steel wall or a street sign?"

She turns the flashlight on to illuminate the interior of the car. The back is totally fine and accessible, but that's not where possible answers are. As far as she's concerned, she's looking for an I.D. of Dean's brother and it's not like responsible drivers leave their I.D.'s laying around in the backseat. Then again, Dean did crash his car but Emma doesn't peg him as the type to crash a car like this more than once.

She slowly walks around the car, soon standing in front of the passenger seat with the round, gaping hole. She reaches in her back pocket and pulls out the thin rubber gloves that she brought on her way to the door and she hastily puts them on, kneeling by the door and balancing the flashlight between her shoulder and cheek.

She carefully touches the rugged sides of the hole, suddenly surprised to find that there is actually a part of the hole that is about a yard stick wide, maybe bigger, from the bottom of the hole to the top.

She furrows her brows, leaning closer. What was so strange about then is that, instead of reaching outwards like pulled taffy, the metal of the door is pushes _in_, like if something actually had to push its way through and then pull out the metal. Judging by the scratches on the sides of the hole, this thing had a lot more where it came from.

_Is this some creature that somehow found its way to Storybrooke or…_

Her thoughts trail off and she sighs. It's obviously a question that only Gold knows the answer to and the last thing that she wants to do is talk to the man.

Her eyes settle on the thought of the possibility of her squeezing in the hole. It wasn't that small, about the size of the bottom half of a normal door, but it wasn't big either, and she might face a scrape or two from the rugged metal edges.

_Just do it,_ she tells herself, trying to erase all her doubts.

She goes for it and grunts as she squeezes in, careful to avoid any rugged metal. She feels something nick at her jeans and rip them but it didn't touch her skin or draw blood. She looks back to see a stretched out, rugged piece stab through the hem of her jeans. She sighs. Thank goodness that it wasn't a troll or something. She hasn't even met one before but she's got a feeling that they aren't fun to be around.

Once she successfully squeezes through, she looks at the seats, seeing them coated with dry blood. She groans at the tight, narrow space. The front of the car presses into the seats, almost touching her even though she's pressed against the seat.

She lets out a breath as she sees a compartment directly in front of her seat. She should look there first.

As Emma tries to open the compartment, she finds that it actually won't budge. The small door is stuck under the top of the compartment. She groans, attempting twenty more times before she gives up and kicks the little door in.

Contents fall out of the compartment like leaves in the fall. Her expression soon falls into confusion, her brows furrowing and lips parting as she sees the contents that were in the compartment. It wasn't exactly the amount of things in there, it was what they were that she found interesting.

They were newspapers with colored highlights, things circled and labeled with names such as _vamp_ or _demon_ and bullet points noting the ways of death and question marks everywhere. Then two small bottles of holy water and a container full of salt.

_All right, that sure isn't suspicious,_ she thinks as she shuffles through the pile. _At least it isn't dangerous…_

Her train of thought trailed off as she feels something hard. She pulls it out and her blood runs cold, probably because her heart stopped beating.

In her hand is a gun. Why would Dean need a gun? It's not like it was uncommon for people to have guns but…it's usually for protection because the owner feels threatened. What would Dean be threatened by? As far as Emma could tell, the guy would gladly tackle a guy for taking away his apple pie.

She drops it to the floor, a shiver running up her spine. The sudden thought of Leroy or someone else finding it crosses her mind and she sighs, taking it in her hands once again. She stuffs it in her holster and moves on, not wanting to be in the same spot for some reason.

She looks through more compartments, wondering is she'll ever find something _useful_. So far, the search hasn't come up with anything but junk and Emma's patience is starting to wear thin.

As she opens a compartment, her heart skips a beat. She suddenly doesn't know whether she should be relieved that she found Sam and Dean's I.D.s, or horrified by how much they have.

The whole compartment was literally _full_ of I.D.s. Every space occupied with a small card with a picture of Dean Crow, but according to three others whose names are visible to her, he's Dean Hamelton, Dean Winslow and Dean Young. There's a badge that reads _Dean Crow, Federal Bureau of Investigation _and another badge that is actually folded up.

Emma tentatively reaches over and grabs the badge. She opens it to see a picture of a man, a bit younger than Dean, with shoulder length hair and a calm expression. It reads _Sam Crow, Federal Bureau of Investigation_.

She grabs another card at random and it's a picture of the same guy, Sam, but the last name is different and the job. This time it's Sam Seawood, Antique's Dealer.

Emma shakes her head, holding her temple. It was bad enough to have two guys crash there and have one of them go missing quite possibly because of magic, but the guys actually being identity thieves or felons just make it all the more better.

She looks at the badges and I.D.s again, her breathing a bit heavy from the shock. She stuffs them both into her back pocket and brings another one of Dean Gardner, Security Guard of the Natural History Museum, just for evidence in case something occurs.

"Dean, I have a _lot_ of questions for you," she murmurs, squeezing out of the gaping hole and walking down the street, the moonlight acting as her only light as she ignores the flashlight in her hand. "And you're gonna answer them whether you _like it _or _not._"

* * *

**Sorry, I know, this chapter's pretty short but I can't just go ahead and jump to the next point of view without having this thing probably reach some sort of limit that probably doesn't exist or something.**

**Anyways, hope you're enjoying and if you're reading, leave a quick comment, okay? Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dean**

Dean's eyes creak open, his body cushioned in a bed. Thin sheets cover his body and the room is mostly white. The sound of a heart monitor beeps in his ears and he automatically knows that he's in a hospital.

_What the hell?!_ He thinks, jerking up in the bed and is greeted by soreness in his muscles.

Memories flood into him, making him remember about the day before: the car crash, the people, Henry's outrageous story about the town, Emma, Sam.

A heavy feeling settles over Dean's chest, torturing him with guilt. He could have helped him. He could have killed the thing that took Sam. And if he couldn't, he could've gone with Sam. Heck, he would be helping him escape right now. Whether it would be him taking action or just making plans. Now, all he's doing is wondering where his little brother could be.

He sighs, lying back down on the bed he closes his eyes. Then the sound of the door opening draws his attention away from his guilt. He opens his eyes to see Henry bounding in with a young woman in red that he saw yesterday.

"Hi, Dean," Henry greets, taking a seat in the visitor's chair.

"Hey, Henry," Dean says with a faint smile, turning his head in the pillow to see him. The girl grabs another chair from the other bed and sits down next to Henry.

"Hey," she says, taking out a hand to shake. Dean shakes it, ignoring his soreness. "I'm Ruby."

"I'm Dean," he says, giving her hand a shake.

"So, Dean, could finish the story about Bloody Mary?" Henry asks. Ruby furrows her brows at that, giving Dean a curious look.

Dean chuckles, feeling a bit nervous telling these stories with Ruby around. "Um, sure. Where was I?"

"The names in the back of the mirrors," Henry says, jumping up and down in his seat in anticipation.

"Oh, um, yeah…" Dean says, trying to remember what happened.

Dean tells as much as he can, trying not to be so detailed about it but enough to let Henry know what's going on. Of course he didn't tell Henry about the man killing his own wife, God only knows what that'll do to his head, but he tells him the name of the woman and leaves out the last name. Even though he only tries to keep his attention on Henry, he can't help but notice Ruby's eyes in his peripheral vision. He feels them like lasers.

Just when he gets to explaining about how he discovered that the so called "Bloody Mary" was Mary Worthington when the door opened again.

He stops talking, looking up and seeing Emma at the door, her frown set just a bit deeper her face than usual and she looks pissed off.

Her eyes land on Henry and go back to Dean, raising an eyebrow. He could tell she's annoyed that Henry keeps coming to him even though he's only been here for two days. Dean smirks, finding her annoyance a bit entertaining.

"Well, hello sheriff. What brings you here today?" he asks.

Ruby looks between the two and Emma sighs, looking at Ruby. "Could you and Henry give us a second?"

Ruby nods, opening her mouth to say something but she seems to think twice and shuts it. "Oh, okay. All right. C'mon Henry. Let's go."

Ruby takes Henry's wrist, hurrying out the door. Henry looks back at Dean with worried eyes.

"Goodbye, Dean!" he manages to say right when Ruby closes the door.

Dean's eyes turn to Emma who stands at the door. He raises his brows expectantly. She sighs, stepping toward his bed until she stands at the foot of it. Uneasiness sets in, making him wonder what's gonna come. He won't be surprised if this is some sort of demon attack.

A nurse walks into the door, her steps faltering a bit when she sees Emma and Dean in a stare down but Emma gives her a reassuring smile, letting her keep on walking. She brings Dean his breakfast and sets it on the tray in front of Dean. After a little thank you, she leaves. Both Dean and Emma watch her leave, waiting until the door quietly shuts behind her and then look at each other.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasant visit to?" he asks as he lifts the lid of his meal, testing her patience. The silence barely seems to be getting to her. What will sarcasm do?

"Cut the act. Who the hell are you?" She snaps, her voice feeling like the clean edge of a sharp, new dagger. He smirks. He actually feels a bit intimidated. He likes this chick.

He grabs a small packet of honey and rips it open, pouring it over some French toast. He cuts off a piece with the plastic knife and stuffs it into his mouth as he looks back up at Emma, a bit amused at seeing her so impatient. He chews slowly, swallowing and sighing then gulps down his juice. He's been through this crap a million times. He's never _really_ been fazed by it. This isn't any different.

After swallowing, he sets the cup down.

"I question what you mean by 'who the hell are you'," he says, lacing his fingers together and leaning back, ignoring the pain of his stitches on his abdomen.

She takes something out of her back pocket. She throws them at him one by one, each one landing on his lap.

The things were I.D. cards. Six of them. One was his FBI I.D., another is an antiques dealer, one other one a police department I.D.

She checked his car?

"So, you looked for my brother in the car? Smart, Emma. Very smart," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Cut the crap, Dean," she says more firmly. "Who the-hell are you?" she repeats, her voice so cold that Dean shudders.

He stares at the wall across him, eyeing the plain, blue-gray surface. If sarcasm doesn't help, he's gonna have to try something else.

He sighs, looking at her, trying to make sure that his expression is neither impressed or amused just so she wouldn't think that anything he's about to say is bullshit.

"Okay. Multiple I.D.'s. You caught me," he says. "I'm lying about my name. Does that really change the fact that my brother's missing?"

"Dean, this is practically stealing an identity. If you lied about this, what else have you lied about—" she says.

"Yeah, what have I lied about?" he cuts in.

She narrows her eyes. "How should I know?"

"Oh, I think you know perfectly how," he says.

She straightens a bit but her expression gives nothing away. Dean knows that he has her though.

"Yeah, I've been hanging out with the kid, Henry, if you haven't noticed. He told me about your 'super power'," he says.

Dean watches as she swallows. He leans closer, looking her in the eye and daring her to contradict him.

"Have I been lying?" he asks.

Emma stares at him, her glare burning holes through his head. Her jaw clenches as she reluctantly shakes her head. Dean smirks, knowing he has her cornered.

"If you _look_ like you've got something dirty in your mind, your ass is going to jail," she finally says as she walks away, her glare never faltering. "I'll go print out pictures of your brother and have search parties out in the forest. After we find your brother, your ass better be out of town by the next day, you got it?" She points to the door for emphasis.

Dean nods, smirking. "You got it, sweetheart."

Emma flinches at the name. "Don't call me that."

"And why not?" he dares to ask.

Emma pulls out her gun, patting the butt of it.

"Because if you do call me that one more time, this will be the death of you," she explains, calm but it's clear that she will.

She places it back in its holster and turns, stepping out of the room.

Dean smirks, making up his mind. He doesn't just like this chick. He _really_ likes this chick.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello. This chapter is actually a bit long (at least I think so) and its just Dean walking around Storybrooke, meeting a bit of familiar characters and stuff. So, there's not much to it. I'm sorry that I took so long to update but I hope this makes it up. Enjoy!**

**Sam**

Slowly—ever so slowly—Sam Winchester reaches consciousness. It felt like climbing a steep, muddy cliff. He's slipped back so much when he's centimeters away from the top only to fall back all the way down in a soul-breaking land that drags him deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

This time he didn't. He didn't stop climbing and held on when he was close to slipping again. He didn't stop until he reached the top and the bright light of awareness lit up his whole being with warmth.

He gasps, shooting up in the cold, dark room. He turns his head in an attempt to look at the room he's in, feeling dizzy at the mere action. He stops turning his head, squeezing his eyes closed trying to dull the pain by pure will but obviously failing.

A groan escapes his moth as he blinks rapidly, raising his hand to support him against the wall, leaning his head on the cold stone.

Breathing shallowly, he turns, looking at the room again but actually observing this time.

The room is dark and dense, the air hard to breathe and humid. The only light is a candle, and even that is starting to flicker and shrink under the pressure of the darkness.

Sam takes a deep breath but is soon greeted by an agonizing pain running all across his chest. He sucks in a breath, only making it worse.

He lets out a small noise from the back of his throat, gingerly placing a hand on his chest, feeling pinpricks of pain where his fingers barely brush his chest. But the pain isn't the only thing he feels on his chest. There's also bandages.

He lets out the breath slowly, looking down at himself. His chest is covered with white gauze that is dampened lightly with blood.

He curses under his breath, wondering what was going on. Where was Dean? Where was _he_?

"Well that isn't appropriate now, is it?" a female voice calls out, interrupting his thoughts.

He jumps, the action causing immense pain. He turns to the sound of the voice, seeing that the doorway is wide open, bright light streaming in. He holds his hand out as high as he could to block the light until his eyes adjusted.

Just as the light doesn't seem as bright, he puts his hand down, looking at the owner of the voice.

It's a middle-aged woman with light brown hair and wrinkles on her mouth as she smiles at him from the other side of the room. She wears a purple cloak concealing an old-fashioned dress that looks more fairytale-Lady than old-fashioned woman.

"Who are you?" Sam manages to croak out. "Where am I?"

The woman smiles wider, her head cocking to the side. She doesn't say anything.

He sits up, throwing his aching legs over the side of the metal bed with a pillow.

"I am Cora," she announces when he looks back up at her. She smiles down at him as she steps further into the room. There's something about the way that she walks, the way that she talks, that made Sam feel uncomfortable. His vibes were on high alert right now and he could just tell that this woman was trouble.

"Where am I?" he asks, holding his abdomen. He takes a slow breath, the tight pain in his chest increasing slowly and spreading all over his body, like spiders crawling all over his chest.

Cora says something but he doesn't quite catch it.

"What?" he asks.

"Well, telling you directly wouldn't be as entertaining as it would be when you figure it out," she says, grinning. "But it doesn't look like you'll figure it out anytime soon."

She stays silent for a moment, making Sam raise his brows in expectation.

"Well?" he asks expectantly.

Cora sighs, stepping farther into the room and the door slams closed unexpectedly…without anything touching it. _Demon,_ Sam automatically thinks, jumping away from the woman. _That _was what he felt in his gut. She was a demon.

"Relax, I'm not those mystical demons that inhabit your world," she says, walking over to the table that holds the candle. She runs her finger along the surface. "Other than that, the answer to your previous question is Wonderland. You're in Wonderland."

Sam stiffens for a moment. _Wonderland…_ the word passes through his thoughts slowly, leaving him wondering what the hell is going on. _Wonderland?_ He thinks again. He thinks about the possibility of being there and thinks a million to none. What were the chances of him being sucked in _Wonderland,_ of all places? He leans back on the wall, scoffing at the thought. _Wonderland._

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he breathes, chuckling. He looks at her. "If this a joke? You can't be serious."

Cora lifts her head to look into his eyes, daring him to contradict her as she says the next words, her voice low. "You're in _Wonderland_."

Sam's smirk disappears, his mind at a dead end. How could he be in Wonderland? How is that possible?

"Why am I here?" He asks. "How did I _get_ here? What the hell is going on!?"

Cora rolls her eyes, seeming bored with Sam's outburst.

"Don't worry. You're just the bait," she says simply. Sam looks at her incredulously. Bait?

"Bait for who?" He asks shocked. The pain that rises in his chest is almost inexistent with all the thoughts in his head.

Cora looks at him like if he already knows the answer. "Who else would you bet the bait to?"

Sam's furrowed brows raise and his mouth parts, speechless. "Dean…" he whispers. He looks down at his feet. Why would this woman want Dean? What does he have to do with anything of this? Even though he doesn't know what the hell is going on, he never assumed Dean had anything to do with it.

"But…where is he?" Sam questions.

Cora sneers, looking passed him at the wall, her eyes cold and angry. "In the place I want him least to be in."

"So he's not here?" Sam questions.

"No. He left before I could retrieve him but I managed to get you and keep you alive. You were nearly dead and I was about to leave you but then I thought about making you bait. And what good is bait if he isn't alive?" Cora says, tapping her chin with her long nails. "So if I have you, I have him."

A loud roar startles Sam, making him suck in a breath and his chest automatically stings, making him hiss in pain. The walls reverberate with the sheer power and volume of the roar. The feral growling makes something inside Sam flinch, making his heart race in fear.

"What the hell is that?!" he gasps, looking at Cora. An amused smirk dances across her lips.

"It's the Jabberwocky," she says simply.

Sam freezes at the sentence, his thoughts plummeting with fear. A _Jabberwocky_. A _freakin'_ Jabberwocky! As if Wonderland wasn't enough.

"A…Jabberwocky," he repeats lamely.

"Well of course. You _are_ a Winchester. Your family is legendary in almost all worlds because they have been able to come to and fro from the three that are nearly impossible to escape for a human," she says.

Sam shakes his head. "This is insane. Jabberwocky's aren't _real_—" he begins.

"Says the boy who was fed demon blood when he was an infant, hunts the supernatural for a living and has gone through hell and back. Need I say more?" she says suddenly, her voice overpowering his. The sad thing is that it's all true. What's worse is that that's not even half of the things that have happened to him.

"Wait, earlier, you said that you wanted my brother. Why the hell do you want my brother?" he asks.

At this, Cora smirks, turning and walking out of the room, the door swinging open and closing behind her without even laying a finger on it.

He leans on the gritty wall behind him, ignoring the stinging in his chest as he takes a deep breath.

_What the hell is going on?_

* * *

**Emma**

Emma lounges on her chair in the sheriff's station, reading some papers blankly. She told Leroy to take Dean's car and attempt to fix it up as best he can. She took out the many I.D.s Dean and his brother owned. And a couple of guns and bottles of holy water and salt they hid in some compartments and under the seats.

Why she didn't go ahead and arrest the guy? She doesn't know. But she guesses that it's because the guy just wants his brother back. No matter how hard she tries, she just can't find a speck of lie in that sentence.

At least she got rid of the worries of him knowing about the curse or who they are. She told Mary Margaret and David that she told Dean that Henry only played a game which made everyone else fairytale characters. She told them that Dean would be playing along as a Hunter so they shouldn't worry.

After she reads three more pages to, a figure appears in the reflection of the window in front of her. A knock on the glass door makes her look up from her paper.

She turns to see a clean, fresh-looking Dean look around the office leaning on crutches.

"Huh, small town has a small jail. Figures," he says, eyeing the small cell. "I take it there's not much crime around here."

Emma just looks at him, going back to her papers.

"Careful there, buddy. You're still on the verge of being arrested. You're lucky I cut you some slack," she responds. She looks up at him again. "What are you doing out of the hospital?"

"Well, after three slow, agonizing days of staying there for observation," he explains, using his crutches to walk over to the chairs in front of her desk.

"They finally decided that I was strong enough to leave. I got a room at the inn and decided to go and meet my favorite and only sheriff."

Emma looks up from her papers, raising a brow at him. He gives her a simple smile and she opens her mouth to ask him why he has a butt-load of I.D.s and tens guns in his car, but the words get stuck in her throat, wondering if she'll like the answer or not.

"So, how ya feeling?" she decides to ask instead.

"He cocks his head to the side. "A bit better."

It stays quiet between the two as they both sit, not saying anything.

"So, how's the search party going?" he asks suddenly.

Emma's heart deflates in disappointment. They haven't found _anything_. Ruby tried to look for scents but Sam's scent was washed out by something stronger and unrecognizable. What made it worse is that it didn't go north, south or anything. Instead, it went heaven-wards.

Emma has no idea how that was possible. Maybe some creature got him or maybe a helicopter for some insane reason, but she's leaning more to the creature idea.

"We've got nothing. We tried some…search dogs—" _Ruby,_ Emma thinks silently, "—but they don't go any further than ten feet from the site. It's as if something popped up and got him…then disappeared!"

Dean's eyes widen as he swallows. Emma doesn't fail to catch this, finding it odd. She narrows her eyes.

"Got any idea of what took your brother?" she asks.

It stays silent for a bit as she watches Dean hesitate to answer.

"No," he finally answers. "Not a clue."

He gets up, gathering his crutches and leaving the room.

Emma leans back in her chair. _Lie,_ she thinks.

* * *

**Dean**

He leaves the station, his thoughts scattered. He doesn't know what the hell took Sam but now his suspicions of it being something inhuman are confirmed. Now he needs to figure out what.

_The dogs didn't go farther than ten feet from the site. The hole in the door is about four feet in diameter. The thing must be huge,_ he evaluates. _If what __Emma said is true, the thing has to be able to fly. It must've. It's either that or it can teleport._

As he walks, he realizes that he has no idea where the hell he's going. He walks by a pawn shop, looking at the name of the owner.

_Mr. Gold,_ he thinks. _What kind of name is that?_

He passes a pole and comes at an intersection. A giant clock catches his attention. Dean furrows his brows, approaching the building. It's actually a library but the clock makes it look otherwise.

He stands in front of the doors, looking curiously at the closed sign. He doesn't have his laptop currently and this is the best place to look for information on what took Sam.

He turns around, beginning to walk away from the doors, his eyes still on them when he bumps into someone. The person's hands accidentally dig into his abdomen, which is currently covered in stitches, while they crash together. He groans in pain, his eyes wide.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" An Australian accent says, backing away.

Dean holds his abdomen, squeezing his eyes closed as the pain dies down slowly. He opens his eyes to see a pretty redhead wearing a blue coat with a scarf. She looks at him apologetically but then her sincere smile disappears with a frown of confusion.

"W-who are you?" she asks. Dean looks at her, finding it odd that _that's _her question when she almost tore his stitches. Her expression changes back to apologetic and a little bit embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that…y'know. There's not much new faces around here so…"

Dean nods. "Yeah, I'm starting to get used to it."

"Um…well, I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going," she says, looking down and sipping up her purse. "I was just getting my keys."

Dean looks from her to the library. "You're the librarian?" he asks incredulously.

She nods, blushing a bit. "Yeah. I know I'm a bit young to be a librarian but…I just _love_ books."

"Yeah, you can say that again," he says, smirking.

She takes out a hand to shake. "Belle," she greets.

Dean shakes it firmly. "Dean. Nice to meet you," he says, smiling. He looks back at the library and looks back at her. A red sign catches his eye at the end of the street. _Granny's Bed and Diner_. He knew that it was there but he just got a room and slept. He hasn't eaten anything since the last day he was at the hospital when they gave him their gross hospital food. His stomach grumbles and he chuckles, feeling embarrassed. "Um, how long are you guys open?"

She bites her lip, looking into space as if trying to remember. "Um, until nine p.m. I have to leave a bit after that because of all the book sorting. Why?"

He shrugs. "Oh, nothing. I just gotta read up on some stuff."

She smirks. "Oh. You didn't peg me as a reader."

He laughs. "Oh, I'm not. I just gotta…do some work." He doesn't like lying to this girl. She seems nice and doesn't deserve to be lied to but what would he tell her? 'Oh, I'm looking for some possibilities of supernatural creatures that possibly took my brother'? Hell no. He'd probably end up back at the hospital. Three days was enough.

"Oh, well, when you do come, I can help you out a bit if you want. Don't be afraid to ask," she reassures.

He smiles, nodding. "I'll keep that in mind."

She walks passed him, approaching the doors and unlocking them. She gives him one last look and waves goodbye. He waves back and she enters the library.

He turns back around, beginning to walk to the diner. He takes step after step in his crutches. He can't actually lean his weight on his broken leg but at least he could walk. He approaches the sidewalk in front of it and walks to the door.

He remembers when he first came here. He was bloodied and broken. They were having a party. If he wasn't looking for Sam, he'd almost feel bad for interrupting their party.

He twists the handle and opens the door. As he steps over the threshold, everyone turns to glance at him and the noise dies down a bit. The only person that looks genuinely happy to see him is Henry, who sits at the corner with a woman with raven, cropped hair and a man with dirty blond hair. The rest watch him as if he's an intruder, trespassing into their territory. It isn't until Henry stands up slightly in his booth, waving at Dean excitedly when they look a bit more accepting.

"Hey Dean!" he calls, beckoning him over.

Dean decides to look away from the prying eyes and smiles at Henry, limping over with his crutches. It isn't until he notices the way that the raven haired woman and the man next to her that he hesitates.

When he approaches their booth, he waits a bit, looking at them. He clears his throat.

"I'm Dean Crow," he says, extending a hand to shake.

The woman reluctantly shakes his hand, looking wary of him and the man shakes it also, looking a bit warmer but Dean could tell that he was just trying to be nice.

"Mary Margaret," the woman introduces herself.

"David," the man says.

"C'mon, Dean. Sit with us!" Henry insists, patting the seat next to him.

Dean looks at Mary Margaret and David for permission and they nod. Dean takes a menu from the table next to them before sitting next to Henry.

"So, Dean, how's your leg?" Henry asks.

Dean looks at him and at his leg in the cast. He taps it. "Still broken," he answers with a chuckle.

"Did you get any news of your brother?" He asks.

Dean shakes his head sadly. "No," he sighs, opening the menu and looking for his favorite desert. Just when he began to feel down, he found cherry pie on the menu and his mood automatically lightened. "Ooh, cherry pie." He looks at Mary Margaret and David, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutinizing gazes. He's sure they won't be the ones that will break the ice. He might as well be the one. "Is it any good?"

They both seem to take a while thinking about his question, more than it usually would.

"Oh, yeah. It is," Mary Margaret says. "The best. And I'm not just saying that because it's the only pie available here."

Dean chuckles, noticing a girl who wears an exaggerating amount of red sashay over to their table. It's Ruby.

"Well, look who's here? How ya feeling?" she asks, taking out her notepad.

Dean nods a greeting. "I've been better but I'm alive," he says. Ruby smiles, taking his menu.

"Anything you'd like to order?" she asks.

"Yep. I'd like the cherry pie, whip cream on top," he requests.

Ruby writes it down, nodding as she leaves. He turns back to the pair and Henry turns to Dean.

"So, they haven't found your brother yet?" he asks.

Dean shakes his head. "No, they haven't. But, I'm sure they'll find him. If I'm well enough, I'll probably go into one of the search parties."

"Can I look help you look for your brother?" he asks.

Dean chuckles. "I don't fell authorized to give you that permission."

Henry slouches, turning back to Mary Margaret and David.

"So, guys, what are we gonna do now sine the curse is gone and stuff?" he asks.

Mary Margaret and David look at each other and then at Dean. Dean remembers that this is Henry's game and they're probably cueing him to play along. Ruby strolls over to their table and sets down the cherry pie in front of him. He smiles a thank to her and takes a fork, digging in.

"Oh, yeah. What do we do now, your high and mightiness?" Dean asks after he swallows.

Henry mentioned these two being Snow White and Prince Charming. Supposedly the curse was broken already and they don't know what to do. What Dean finds so odd is that _everyone_ plays along with it. Now, it's not like he wants to put Henry down but why would a whole town try to keep this kid happy?

Ah, what should he know? He's only been here a few days.

"Oh, well, we need to get back to the Enchanted Forest," Mary Margaret says, looking at David.

"Um, yeah. The Evil Queen, Regina, has been causing a bit of problems," he says, nodding and looking back at Henry and Dean.

"But Regina's also my mom too. We have to take her," Henry says.

Dean furrows his brows and chokes on his pie at the information. His mom? He thought Emma was his mom?

"Whoa, whoa! Dean, are you okay?" David asks, looking at him with swallows his pie, taking a few breaths as he clears his throat, looking at them.

"Wait, _who_ is his mom?" he asks, pointing to Henry.

"Oh, I didn't tell you, did I?" Henry says apologetically. Dean turns to him, raising a brow. Yeah, he's missing a _huge_ bit of the game. "Regina, the Evil Queen, adopted me when Emma set me up for adoption. Eventually I found Emma and she came back here. She broke the curse and this is where we are now."

Dean looks at Mary Margaret and David, his eyebrows raised. "Well, this is an interesting situation."

He finishes the last pieces of his pie, bringing the last bite on his fork to his mouth when he looks out the window to see a middle-aged man with shoulder-length, brown hair that looks like it's graying stands behind the picket fence at the front of the diner. He stands there with a cane and a black suit. He just stares at Dean, not really doing anything.

A chill runs down Dean's back, making him shiver. Something is wrong about that man. He could feel it in his gut.

"Dean," Henry calls.

Dean's gaze turns to Henry, the man still lingering in Dean's mind. "Yeah?"

"Do you think you'll find your brother?" he asks.

Dean looks at Henry and shrugs. "I don't know, but I gotta go," he says, suddenly feeling the urge to leave. He's gotta go looking for Sam anyways. He can't be wasting time here. He takes his last bite and leaves cash at the table. He stand up, looking at David and Mary Margaret.

"Thanks for letting me sit here. Bye guys," he says, waving at them as he leaves the diner.

He opens the door and exits the building, looking at the picket fence where the man was standing, or used to be. He's gone now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! I know it has been a while since I've posted some new chapters but I'm jsut randome like this. Some authors have a dealine that they set up for themselves, some of them say that they'll post at least once a week but, please, don't expect that from me. I'm just those 'randomly-post-up-chapters-whenever-the-heck-I want-to' type of people. And one more thing, if you sort of get annoyed that some information is a bit off from the show like Red having control of herself when she's all 'wolfed-up', be free to complain but just don't insult. Those sort of bring me down and I need to be brought...up? Is that what you would say?**

**Well, anyways, thanks, anyone who'se reading and hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Unnecessary disclaimer: I own nothing (sadly)**

* * *

**Emma**

She puts the paperwork back, letting out a heavy sigh of relief that the working day was finally done. She lets out a light smile, glad that all that work was over with. Signing papers and looking over them is more exhausting than it sounds, especially when you do it for hours on end.

She stands up, shrugging on her leather jacket and grabbing her keys as she heads to the front door.

Swinging it open, the cool, afternoon wind hits her face and kisses her cheeks, welcoming her into the noon air. She closes her eyes, breathing it in since she's been stuck in the office all day. Other than Dean visiting her, she hasn't had much happen.

She opens her eyes and scans her surroundings. Everything's fine, nothing out of the ordinary.

_Good,_ she thinks. _I'd like to keep it that way._

But her discovery is short lived when she turns around in the direction of Gold's shop. There, standing in front of the shop, is Dean. He just stands there, leaning on the crutches, his stare almost penetrating through the front glass window. From all the way where Emma is, she could see him narrow his eyes and lean forward in interest, almost shock. He murmurs something.

She can't help but just stare at him with curiosity. What is in Gold's shop that catches his attention in such a way?

Just then, almost as if sensing someone was watching him, he turns and makes eye contact with Emma. She could feel her face burn with the blush that creeps up her cheeks. It's not like she's nervous around him but who wants to be caught staring at someone like a creep?

They both just stare at each other, the silence stretching between them. She doesn't know what to do or say. Even if she did, her throat wouldn't allow it, she would've choked on the words.

"Um, is there anything I can help you with?" he asks.

Emma's will suddenly returns, letting her blink and step away, even though there is enough space between the two already. But even then, it still doesn't seem like enough.

"Oh, uh, nothing," she answers. She begins to walk toward her bug and she looks back at him. "Um, you have a place at Granny's…right?"

He nods, furrowing his brows in question. "Yeah…why?"

Emma shrugs, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I was just gonna offer a ride. Since you're in…" she trails off, gesturing to his crutches.

He looks down and looks back up at her. His whole demeanor changed in that one look. His expression is guarded and bricked up, obviously making a wall between them. He stands up a bit straighter. Her heart skips a beat. What's up with him? Is he okay?

"Nah, I'll be fine," he says, only a small hint of coldness in his voice. _What did I do?_ She thinks, wondering what the heck she did to make this change. "I don't need your help."

Emma nods, still a bit flustered with his quick attitude change. She clears her throat, trying to choose her words carefully this time. "Are you sure? I mean, it's a bit of a walk from here—"

"I'm fine," he cuts her off, his voice stiff on the defense. "I could walk."

Emma bites her tongue. She would give a sarcastic comeback but she knows it'll only make things worse. Besides, his stubbornness obviously won't allow him any help. She tilts her head, nodding.

"All right. See ya around," she says, waving a farewell to him. He waves a light one to her and she steps into the drivers' side of her bug, looking at him in the rearview mirror. He stares at her car, his expression as blank as a sheet of paper.

She shakes her head, putting the keys into the ignition and starts the car. She begins to drive toward her apartment that Snow, Charming and Henry are at right now. They'd probably ask about Dean and if he's suspicious in any way. She takes a deep breath as she parks outside the apartment. She turns off the ignition but she stays in the car, sitting at the drivers' seat. It's enough that she barely got out of the Enchanted Forest, barely having her family together and have a somewhat normal week but then Dean and his brother had to show up and the people in Storybrooke are beginning to get edgy towards Dean. He doesn't seem bothered but the things that annoy her is that the people decide to bring it up to her to complain about what their next move is and when the stranger is leaving. She tries to assure that he'll be leaving soon once they find his brother but she's not even sure if that is possible.

She leans back in her seat, looking out of the windshield at the full moon. Her thoughts switch to her family, her friends. Henry, Snow, Charming, Granny, Archie, Ruby…

The full moon suddenly registers in her mind and so does Ruby. If magic was back in Storybrooke, then wouldn't that mean that…

Emma's mental question is answered by a distant howl, indicating that Emma should be very, very worried. She knows that David told her that Ruby had been able to get a grip of her wolf but there were times when Ruby sort of let herself go too much and when she was stressed out. So Emma and Granny have been trying to get her to wear her cloak but she didn't carry it around. _Maybe she didn't get to get it,_ she thinks.

"Shit," Emma breathes, turning on the ignition and drives away to Granny's. Emma just hopes that Ruby hasn't done anything to harm yet.

* * *

**Dean**

He stands in the cold vast forest alone, the only sounds that accompany his breathing and beating heart is the sound of the wind whistling through the air and shifting the leaves in the trees. He hasn't been able to call Castiel since he's been worrying about what took Sam and the reading in the library hasn't helped him at all and the exact replica of Ruby's knife being in that pawn shop he saw earlier had occupied his mind for about an hour. It wasn't until he told himself that it was impossible, that there couldn't have been another knife that would be in the public's hands—if it was, the Hunter that owned it must've been a horrible Hunter—and then he remembered that he was going to call Castiel when he headed off to the woods and even then, it took him a while to fully reach the woods with these stupid crutches of his. Even though he's already been in crutches before, being in them a second time didn't make it any easier.

He looks at the sky, hoping that if Castiel didn't come out of his own free will, then he would come when Dean called him.

"Cas?" he calls, hoping the angel was anywhere around. "Cas? Are you out there? Cas?!"

He waits for a second, almost expecting him to come but he is responded with nothing. The angel just doesn't want to appear.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and he looks up, seeing the full, silver-white moon shine down on the vast forest.

"Alright. I guess I'm in this alone," he mutters, turning in his crutches and leaving. As he leaves, leaves rustle behind him. "Finally," he breathes, beginning to turn around. "It's about ti—"

A chill runs down his spine, making him wary that this entity was _not_ Castiel and what confirmed it more was the feral growling that freezes him. He freezes, his heart tightening in his chest. _Shit,_ he thinks. _It's a damn wolf._ He slowly turns around and all thoughts but panic escape his mind. The size of the wolf is what stunned Dean first. It's burnt umber fur shift as it steps close to Dean, almost three trees away. Its eyes watch Dean like the dinner he's about to become. It's pupils reflect his image. _It's like a Twilight rip-off,_ he wonders.

"Shit," he breathes, panicking a bit. He soon banishes the feeling. Panicking has never helped him in these situations. He doesn't panic in a hunt and he's not about to panic now. Then that thought deserts him as the wolf jumps at him, it's paws outstretched with razor claws threatening to rip into his flesh. He dives to the side out of panic, suddenly regretting it because he can't get up without his crutches. He knew that he shouldn't have gone to the ground but the panic erased that memory. _This_ is why he doesn't like to panic.

All thoughts of his cease once a shredding pain rakes his back, a great weight settling over him and presses onto the recent and currently bleeding wound. A scream rips out of his throat, the pain overwhelming and Dean only hangs onto consciousness by a thread. Jaws clamp down on his good leg and he lets out another pained cry. He grips the dirt under his hand tightly until his knuckle turn white.

_I need to think of something,_ he decides, fumbling about him to look for something while the wolf clamps its jaw down on Dean's leg harder. _C'mon, c'mon!_

He lets out a relieved sigh—or choke, either way, he was relieved—when he feels the handle of his gun in the bloody fabric. As his fingers fumble to seek the trigger, the wolf suddenly pulls on his flesh, obviously planning to rip the chunk off. Dean lets out another cry, this one strained and rough, his breaths shallow and forced as he loses blood. He decides to take the risk and shoot blindly at the area above his back, hoping to hit the wolf. He thanks God that the wolf is hard to miss because of its size. A whimper and snarl comes from above and the wolf tumbles off of him and Dean gives out a small, satisfied smile.

He struggles to sit up, managing to support himself to sit up against the tree and point the gun at the wolf. He aims at the head, hoping that this will end it.

"No!" A familiar voice screams.

He and the wolf turn, almost simultaneously as the new attention grabber stole the small moment of terror. Dean is dumbfounded to find Emma standing there with cloth bunched up in her fist and the moonlight giving her a delicate appearance but Dean knows otherwise.

"Don't shoot!" she says and he's drawn out of his momentary shock to be surprised. _What the hell did she just say?_ He wonders. _Why is she vouching for a _fucking_ wolf?_

"What the hell do you mean 'don't shoot'?!" he asks. "if you haven't noticed, I'm three seconds away from being ripped to shreds."

The wolf growls, catching Dean's attention again. He turns back to it, his aim renewed as he kept his gaze on its slightest movement. He swears, if it moves an inch, he'll shot the animal.

"Ruby!" Emma cries out. Dean widens his eyes. Ruby is the name of that woman that visited him at the hospital. But that would mean…No, it couldn't be. Werewolves don't look like this.

"Ruby?! What do you mean Ruby?!" Dean asks, trembling in pain.

"Ruby," Emma repeats to the wolf. Even if it was a werewolf, what kind is it anyways? "Ruby, if you're in there, listen to me. Don't do this!"

The wolf ignores her, beginning to move in on Dean. He cocks the gun to the side, switching the barrel to one with a bullet.

"I have your cloak!" Emma says, raising the bunched up cloth in her hand. Dean could see that it's a poppy-red cloak.

"Oh, well a cloak sure is a _huge_ game changer!" Dean says, looking at Emma incredulously. How the hell would a damn cloak help in this situation?

The wolf suddenly lunges and Dean winces, bracing for it. He knows that he wouldn't be able to shoot it.

"No!" Emma shrieks, panicked.

Dean knows that this is where his end is. He could just tell. He prepares for the pain, for the agony. His muscles still brace for it but are surprised to find there isn't any yet. Surely he should be dead by now. What the hell?

He opens his eyes, the spectacle in front of his very eyes telling a different story.

Castiel stands in front of him, a wolf knocked out at his feet. Dean looks at him incredulously. Well, it would've just been peachy is he would've come sooner.

"Well that took long enough!" Dean shouts, looking at him.

Emma looks at Castiel in shock, her mouth parted in horror.

"What the—? What the hell just happened?" she gasps, looking between Castiel and Dean. She points at him. "You…you were about to be attacked! I mean…there's no way that he could've gotten there…"

"I advise that you put the cloak on Ruby before she awakes," Castiel says, his signature monotone voice sounds the same as always.

Emma cautiously walks closer, keeping her distance from Castiel but not hesitating to get to the werewolf on the ground. Dean hasn't even had enough evidence but by now he could tell that this was the Ruby that visited a few days ago.

She drapes the poppy cloak over the wolf's form, standing up as she waits, her gaze turning to Castiel with a glare. Castiel ignores her, turning to Dean and making contact with his thumb to Dean's forehead. He could feel the pain slowly fading away, the sensation like when your fallen asleep limbs wake up once again. His leg bone mends back together and the bruised ribs' pain dulls until it fades away completely, even until it's healthy.

Dean stands up straight, feeling refreshed and he takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. He hears Emma gasp and he opens his eyes, turning them to her. Her expression is just as he expected it; shocked, confused, unbelievable.

He ignores her and turns to Cas. "What the hell, Cas? I was calling for you and you didn't come. What took you so long?" He grunts as he stretches, cracking his back.

"I had some business to take care of but I see you got yourself into a bit more of a mess that I anticipated," Cas answers, looking at the dark sky. His gaze turns to Emma, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in curiosity and scrutiny.

"Well, no shit!" Dean replies, glancing at an extremely confused Emma who looks uncomfortable under Castiel's gaze. "Yes, I'm in a bit of a mess. Sam's missing and I have no clue as to where the hell he is. I was hoping you could help."

Castiel stares at the sky, his expression showing no hint that he was listening to Dean.

"Alright, what the hell is so damn interesting about the sky?" Dean asks, shifting his weight on his good foot, the one without the cast. His leg with the cast is starting to feel uncomfortable.

"I never thought that I'd see this form of magic again," Castiel murmurs to himself.

Emma stands, her gaze turning to Castiel in shock. Dean stays quiet.

"What do you mean 'this form of magic'?" Dean interrogates.

Castiel's gaze turns to him.

"You don't know, do you?" he asks.

Dean looks at him, his eyes narrowing.

"Know what?" he asks.

Castiel gestures to the area. "This town is encased in magic that is not available here in this world," he explains. "It has that strong, powerful magic that could almost grant anything that you wish for, but this isn't strong enough to work on its own purity and goodness. Most of it is probably dark.

Emma stiffens as Castiel turns to her. "You are pure. Sure, you are bitter, cold and very defensive, but I could sense the pureness of your soul, of what you were made of," Castiel turns to Dean and turns to Emma. "She is the product of the most powerful magic that there is."

Dean looks at Emma, his expression stone hard and confused. Dean's eyes flicker to Castiel. "And what's that?"

"True love."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, bros. I know I already posted a chapter yesterday but I have time today. I'm actually gonna post another chapter after this one. Yeah, I actually have that much time! I know, almost impossible but that's what the weekend does when you have no homework! Thank God for the end of the year!**

**Anyways, the usual feeling of needing to say: critizism is welcome but no insults. I know this story is slightly amatuerish but it's the best I can do. I'll try to edit some of it later but I just want to post as much chapters as I can. So, I hope you enjoy reading this.**

**Unnecessary disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing except the plot. If I did own either of these shows, I would've struck a deal for a crossover a long time ago.**

* * *

**Emma**

She just stands there, astounded. Not only did this guy who—apparently—had abilities to teleport, heal a horribly broken and Dean and knock Ruby out by just appearing there know about the magic that encases the town…but also that she's the product of True Love?

_What the hell?_ She wonders. It stays quiet as both Dean and the guy, Cas, stare at her intently.

"What?" Dean asks incredulously as a moment of tension passes. His expression is tight, almost held back and irritated. His hard gaze turns to Emma and she returns it. Even though at the moment he's horribly confused, she's pretty sure that he _barely_ found out one of her secrets and she has _many_ to uncover for him. A shift in the air between Dean and Emma makes itself evident. By this time, Emma knows that they're both crossed each other's lines into the other's worlds. Right now, she's treading into the unknown territory of Dean's world and she has no guide other than Dean, and she knows that he'll be hesitant and busy with her world to sort out and deal with.

Cas looks between the two, making a slight observation.

"It seems that you two have got some things to sort out. Goodbye, Dean," Cas says, waving at Dean and bowing his head respectfully at Emma and she gives him a reluctant nod.

"Wait, Cas! Don't you dare—" Dean begins, breaking his gaze but once they both turn to see him, the spot he was once in absent of his presence. Dean curses, irritated. He runs a hand through his hair and down his face, taking a deep breath through the nose.

It stays quiet between the two.

"Alright, what the hell happened?" Emma asks, touching her temple and wondering if what happened moments ago actually _happened._

"Looks like we both have some explaining to do and questions to be answered," Dean says, making Emma's gaze turn back to him and his expression is anything but friendly. They stare tensely at each other, demanding silently that the other to succumb to the other's authority.

A groan emits from under the cloak, interrupting their stare-down, the long forgotten Ruby beginning to arise.

"I'll tell you later. Help me take Ruby to the Inn," Emma commands, wrapping an arm under Ruby's shoulder. She grumbles sleepily, leaning her head on Emma's shoulder and attempting to take unsteady steps. Ruby soon becomes more alert with each step taken.

"Huh?" Ruby gasps, looking around. Dean gives Emma one last look before he puts an arm under Ruby's, supporting her. "What's going on?"

Her eyes land on Dean supporting her, when he should really be the one that's being supported. "Hey! You're supposed to have a broken leg!"

"Yeah, and _we_ were supposed to be getting along," Dean says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Emma sends him a glare and he sends her a colder one. She knows that she really shouldn't be treating him so roughly since he was just attacked by a werewolf but she can't help but feel…betrayed, for some insane reason. He hadn't told her about his "magical connections" and she can't help but feel that he lied to her in a way and it almost _hurt_ her. It's not like there was some unbreakable bond or oath to never keep secrets from each other. They were barely friends. The closes thing that they had to friendship was the shaky truth that is hanging by a thread now.

"What happened?" Ruby asks, looking around the area. "Did I…"

"If you're implying that you _wolfed-up_, yes, you damn-well did," Dean answers dryly.

Ruby sniffs the air, turning to the blood slightly and looking at Dean and the blood on his clothes.

"Oh my God…" she gasps, looking at him. "I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't mean to… It's just that…I've been under stress and I was a bit worried about things. I-I—" Ruby stammers.

"It's fine," Dean mutters, not looking at her. "They never do."

_They never do? What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ Emma wonders, straining not to say it out loud.

"Let's just go," Emma says as her yellow bug comes into view. "We all have interesting stories to tell."

* * *

**Dean**

The feeling of a cast coming off of his sweaty, warm leg is like turning your pillow over to the cold side when the warm side gets to uncomfortable.

"Finally," he groans, tossing his leg over the bedside and letting out a breath.

"Okay, not that _that's_ over," Emma says, David and Mary Margaret standing by her side as he sits on her bed. "Can you please start off with whoever the hell you are?"

"And tell the _truth_ this time," David says. _Well, he actually might not even be David but who knows if this town is actually just a place full of people who defend a monster in their presence? It's happened once, why not happen again?_ He thinks. If they are, it sure would be a waste of poor Emma. She's a very attractive woman and Dean would be very disappointed to find out that she's insane.

"Or what?" Dean dares to ask. "You weren't exactly honest at the beginning either, _David,_ or should I even call you that? Who knows, maybe this is all a big lie? Some joke?"

Emma steps closer to him, her expression serious. "You just got attacked by a werewolf and I just saw a man teleport and knock one out by just _being_ there. If this was a joke, it would be a lot of trouble to go to for a pretty, little laugh."

Dean stares at her hard, deciding whether or not to tell them. Would he really risk getting caught by the law or hunted down by demons or monsters for this? He knows about some bounties on his head and he's not sure if the town could handle monsters running amuck the town, causing deaths and havoc.

"Dean," he says, his jaw clenched.

"Your _full_ name," Emma demands harshly.

Dean looks at her, then at David, Mary Margaret, then back to her. His jaw is set hard and he decides to fuck it and tell them. "Dean Winchester."

Not a single spark of interest glimmers in either of their eyes and Mary Margaret decides to speak up.

"Well, Dean Winchester, what the hell are you doing here? People don't just _come_ to Storybrooke, especially not people like _you_," she says. "Not much people have been across the town line. How did you find yourself here?"

Dean's jaw clenches tighter, almost crushing his on teeth. "Just as I told you. My brother and I were passing through, we crashed, I went to go get help and my brother's missing now," he says, his voice rising. He jumps off the counter, his arms crossing and his temper rising. "And I get attacked by a damn werewolf named Ruby, who turns out to need fucking red cloak to keep herself from wolfing-up. I don't know about you but I find an awful lot suspicious."

They all stare at him, their glares not faltering in the least.

"What are you?" Coming from Emma's lips, it was more of a demand than a question, her voice cold as ice. Dean almost shudders at the coldness.

"I…" he hesitates. Should he really? Their kid already thinks he is and these guys just take it as a joke but how will they react when they find out that what he's been telling Henry (and Dean is pretty sure he's told his guardians) is real?

_Ah, to hell with it. Just tell them. It can't be as bad as this town's secrets,_ he thinks. "I'm a Hunter," he admits.

They stare at him, their expressions devoid of any emotion. They have absolutely no reaction to it. The David opens his mouth.

"So…your stories…" he trails off.

"Are…" Mary Margaret attempts to continue.

"Real?" Emma gasps, her expression questioning and incredulous.

Dean nods in confirmation and she massages her temples, closing her eyes and squeezing them tight. David runs a hand down his face, taking a deep breath. Mary Margaret looks at the ground, letting out a groan. Their reactions are not what he expected. They seem almost…annoyed. Irritated even, but not at all scared or shocked.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Emma groans.

David looks at him, his expression serious and letting him know that he's not gonna take bullshit. "You're telling the truth? You're not kidding?" Dean looks at him, giving him a '_you seriously think I'm kidding_' look. He turns away, looking frustrated.

"So…you…hunt things?" Mary Margaret asks cautiously.

Dean nods, standing straight. "Yep. Vamps, werewolves, demons or ghosts. Almost anything that isn't earthly that kills," he says.

"Where the hell were you when the wraith came?" Mary Margaret mutters under her breath. Dean's brows furrow, his mouth opening to question why the hell there's a wraith there.

"But this is a land without magic," David says, almost sounding like he's laughing while saying that. As he says the words, it looks like even _he_ doubts what he just said. "There isn't supposed to be creatures like that."

Dean's gaze turns to him, "None that you know of," his attention turns to all of them at once. "My brother and I have been dealing with these things since he was born. I've done just about anything to try to protect him, it's not just gonna stop now when I screwed up this one time. Now tell what the secret of this damn town is. It might help me find him, unless you want to have the potential blood of my brother on your hands."

They stay quiet, a bit stunned. David clears his throat.

"You know the…game we play with Henry," David begins and looks at Dean meaningfully. Dean's heart skips a beat. _Don't fucking tell me that…_ "Well…it's real."

Dean's heart clenches. _And they fucking told me,_ he thinks, his arms falling at his sides and he leans back on the counter. He blows out a frustrated breath from his mouth and runs a hand through his hair, resting it on the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I can't say I didn't see that coming but I can't say I'm not surprised," he looks up at them in a new light. It would make sense. Mary Margaret's pale skin and raven hair define Snow White perfectly and David has that Prince-ly look. "Snow. Charming," he says simply, trying to get used to the idea. He looks at Emma. "And who are you? Super-Plum Princess?" he teases, trying to make light of the situation but…it's too surreal. It makes almost no sense. He has to get his hands on Henry's book.

Emma's gaze only narrows, clearly not finding the comment any funnier than he does himself.

"No. I wish I was but…I'm the…damn savior," she says blandly.

He raises a brow. He opens his mouth to ask which savior of which fairytale she was but decides against it. She sighs, walking out of the room, soon returning with the book Henry is obsessed over. His heart skips a beat at the sight of it, wondering why the hell they kept all their fairytale history in a book. Everything about the people in this town is in that book and Henry is the only one that told him. Coming from Henry, it was only a joke to Dean but coming from three mature adults, it doesn't seem like complete bullshit.

"Alright, so let me get this straight," Dean says as Emma hands him the book. He places his palm on the book and then to the room, implying the town. "Everyone here is out here?"

They nod.

"Who else is here? Cinderella? Sleeping Beauty? Beauty and the Beast? Where the hell is the beast? I haven't seen any hairy creatures around here?" he asks.

Emma sighs. "Cinderella, yes. Aurora is back in the Enchanted Forest. Belle is somewhere around the town, probably at the library or Gold's shop and Gold is the beast. He's not as _beastly_ as Disney describes. In fact, Gold is Rumplestiltskin."

His thoughts suddenly shift to the Belle that he met outside of the library. Damn, he was talking to a fairytale character and he didn't even have a damn clue. Now all the people he's met he's beginning to question who the hell they really are. He assumes that that creepy guy outside the diner is Rumplestiltskin/Gold/beast. That one's obvious. But who was Henry? Or Ruby? Well, now that he thinks about it, she does wear a butt-load of red…

"So what now? I'm not a character? I'm sure as hell Sam isn't," he says, eyeing them all. "And I'm pretty sure we don't _want_ to be."

They don't look so offended in any way. _Looks like being Snow White isn't exactly what it seems to be either,_ he thinks.

"Just help me find my brother, then we'll go. I'll just bring trouble to your quaint, little…fairytale town," he says. "I mean…isn't there a fairy who can help us or anything? Is Tinkerbell here? Is Granny that Fairy-God mother?"

They all stay quiet except for Emma who chuckles slightly at his last comment. Mary Margaret—or Snow from now on—shifts slightly, her mouth opening slightly and catching Dean's attention. And almost invisible smirk appears on her lips as she looks at him.

"I think we might know someone," she says.

Dean stands in front of the church or whatever the religious place is called. He spent every second while walking here trying to process it all. He's in a town with Snow White, Prince Charming and their daughter and he's about to visit some Fairy-God mother of sorts to help find his brother. He sighs as he stops at the front door and Snow knocks. They wait in silence.

_It's alright, it's okay. Being stuck in a storybook-character-filled town _is_ out of the ordinary but you should be used to out of the ordinary. This isn't any different,_ he reassures himself but he's failing hopelessly.

"So…this _isn't_ Fairy-God mother?" Dean asks.

"No," Emma says. "She's the Blue Fairy. She helps cast spells for us and wishes and stuff."

"Ah. She does the _Bippidie-Boppidie-boop_ crap?" he asks simply.

Snow nods, Prince Charming rolls his eyes. "Yes, but without the crap."

Emma nods and at that moment the door opens. A brunette stands there in a blue dress and a strictly straight posture. She smiles warmly as she sees the rest but when her eyes land on Dean, they widen, her smile becoming more strained.

"Oh, hello," she says, looking away from Dean to the rest. "What brings you here?"

Emma looks at her. "We need your help."

The Blue Fairy nods, understanding their request but giving Dean a nervous glance. "Come in, come in."

Dean nervously steps over the threshold, looking around and glancing at her. Could he really trust her to find Sam? This place looks like a normal house of God. Nothing special. Just some pictures, the occasional Bible and crucifixes on the walls.

They walk into a room with some couches and they all sit down, the Blue Fairy sitting across from them. Even though she's sitting right in front of her, the Blue Fairy sounds so foreign to Dean, so unreal and more surreal. Ghosts and demons, Dean can handle. Fairytale fairy magic might just send him over the edge.

"With that do you need my assistance?" she asks, crossing her legs as she settles in.

"We need you to help us find his brother," Emma explains, pointing to Dean. He nods, raising his hand as if the lady would think Prince Charming was Dean. Dean curses himself inwardly for acting so lamely but he's out of his element at this very moment, feeling stupid even though he's in the same room with the princess that allowed an evil witch into her house only to be poisoned with an apple.

The Blue Fairy looks at him, her mouth slightly opened. She looks back at Emma, Snow and Prince Charming.

"Um, searching for people isn't really a job for us sisters—" she begins.

"He knows," Emma interrupts, not seeming fazed but her befuddlement.

The Blue Fairy looks shocked and looks at Dean, her eyes wide. She looks from the rest to Dean multiple times, almost wondering why they chose him. He tries not to be offended by that.

"He _knows_?" she repeats, incredulously.

They all nod, Dean nodding along with them.

"And I need help," he admits, looking at her as he leans his elbows on his knees, running a hand down his face. "My brother's missing, likely taken by something that obviously isn't human."

"Any chance you can help us find it?" Prince Charming asks.

The Blue Fairy bites her lower lip.

"Maybe," she says. "But I'll have to go to the site and try to find a trace the creature left behind. I'm not able to track the creature but I might be able to do something."

Dean claps his hands to his knees. "Alright," he says haughtily, hope entering his soul as he gets a bit excited. "Let's go find the sonovabitch."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys. Yes, here's the other one. I don't have much to say so...bye**

**Unnecessary disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

**Emma**

She stands in front of the scene again except Dean's car is removed from the site but everything else is very much the same. Snow and Charming stayed behind, claiming that they had to go take care of Henry.

"Alright, let me take a look around," the Blue Fairy says, leaving them all in their own little group. "Just stay here," she orders, craning her head to look back at them and then walking forward again, examining the trees and going deeper into them.

Dean scoffs, walking away from the spot that the Blue Fairy ordered them to stay at. "Stay here my ass."

_Mother of God,_ Emma thinks, rolling her eyes as Dean surveys the area around the police tape, going under it and inspecting the ground. As Emma is about to tell him to quit it, he crouches down, his hand grazing a burnt spot on the tar. Emma furrows her brows, wondering how she missed that. _Well it was the middle of the night,_ she reasons. She looks around, finding more specks of burnt tar that is spread out pretty wide. Dean doesn't waste his time noticing either.

"It looks like it was splattered on. Like acid," Dean observes. "It must've taken time for it to fall from somewhere."

He stands up, pulling Emma with him as she eyes his hand making contact with her arm as he pulls her up. She pulls it free. She can get up herself. It's not like she needs help.

Dean moves over to other spots where the burnt splotches are bigger with smaller splotches surrounding it. It looks like this is where the acidic thing splattered.

"So, this is one of the…things falling and…" he trails off as he sees another one and steps toward it, looking from the one at his feet to the one he left Emma at. "It's eight feet away from the other. Whatever this thing is, it's big…and oozes acid?" he suggests lamely.

"Maybe this just happened?" she tries to explain but when she looks up at him, seeing him with raised eyebrows and a look that asks '_do you really believe the words coming out of your mouth?_' She groans. Now she has a giant monster to deal with. As if the dragon wasn't enough.

Dean take something out of his jacket pocket, pressing a button and Emma hears a static noise come from it, an occasional beep. He hovers it over the burnt parts and the device has no change in behavior.

"What is that?" she asks.

"EMF detector," he responds, not looking up at her. "Electro-Magnetic Fields. It can catch any electro-magnetic energy, leaving us some clues to suggests something paranormal or spirit-like." Emma raises her brows, a bit impressed. "But this thing isn't giving me crap so it's no help."

After a couple more minutes of searching for something that could help them suggest anything to help them figure this creature out, they've got nothing. It isn't until Emma hears the Blue Fairy's voice that she remembers her existence.

"I found something!" she calls.

Dean and Emma look up abruptly. _This better help,_ she wonders, walking in the direction of the voice.

"This better help," Dean mutters.

Emma's brows furrow. That's exactly what she was thinking. A shudder goes through her. _Creepy_.

She shakes the creepiness away and turns back to the matter at hand. They jog to the sound of the Blue Fairy's voice and find her with a dark, blue-violet rock that's a bit on the flat side. It's coated in dirt with the occasional peek of the shiny rock's surface reflects the light. Its reflection almost blinds Emma. The Blue Fairy's thumb scrapes off some dirt diagonally to show a brighter, blue-violet color.

Emma eyes the rock strangely. The rock is about as big and wide as her palm.

"What is it?" she asks.

The Blue Fairy hesitates a moment. "A scale."

Emma's heart clenches and she could see Dean fidget beside her. _What could that belong to?_ She wonders.

"What animal would have a scale this big?" Dean whispers.

The Blue Fairy turns to them, her expression concerned and worried. "This…" she trails off, looking back down at the scale and back at them, "might just be a Jabberwocky scale."

Emma's heart skips a beat.

"Jabberwocky? A-as in—" she begins.

"Alice in Wonderland Jabberwocky?" Dean somehow finishes.

The Blue Fairy nods gravely. Emma watches Dean run a hand down his face, looking just a bit more irritated as he turns away from them, obviously needing to sort his thoughts out. She looks back at the scale.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Emma mutters.

"So _this_ is what took my brother?" Dean asks, standing beside Emma again.

The Blue Fairy shrugs. "I can't be too sure. I'll have to make sure. But I am fairly certain that this is indeed a Jabberwocky scale."

Dean leans closer to the Blue Fairy, which involves pushing Emma a bit farther away from him and she doesn't like to be pushed.

"There is a Jabberwocky scale in your hand at the _very_ moment. My brother is missing and the thing that we're looking for is a huge, otherworldly creature and suddenly a Jabberwocky scale is found on the floor just ten feet away from where the car crashed and my brother was taken. If it doesn't mean something, this is the biggest damn coincidence I've ever seen!" he says.

Emma pushes him back. "Calm down!" she whispers harshly to him. "Listen, I'm not particularly sure why the hell we have to make sure—we all know it was the Jabberwocky—but if she says to make sure, we make sure."

Dean pulls away from her grasp, his hard stare boring into Emma and then it turns to the Blue Fairy.

"Alright," he says after a while. "How do we make sure?"

Emma turns to the Blue Fairy to see her look at Dean cautiously as she opens her mouth. "We have to go to Rumplestiltskin."

Emma stiffens at his name. She's had to deal with him a lot and now she's gotta deal with him more? She needs to get paid more for her job.

Based on Dean's string of curses, he doesn't seem all too thrilled with having to go meet up with Rumplestiltskin.

* * *

**Dean**

The Blue Fairy leads them out of the site and back to town, none of the speaking as they rush through the streets. Soon, the Pawn Shop's sign is visible. _What the hell?_ He wonders. Rumplestiltskin has a pawn shop? Wasn't he into making deals and stealing babies and stuff?

He stops in front of it with Emma and the Blue Fairy with him. A sick feeling settles into his stomach and he looks through the window, at the spot where he could've sworn he saw the same demon-killing knife he has but it's not there. Confusion settles unto Dean's body, making him wonder if he'd just imagined it or if it was just a dream.

His thoughts are cut short when Emma opens the door and walks right in, the Blue Fairy following suit. Dean has nothing else to do but to follow.

He crosses the threshold to be pulled into a room full of interesting curios. All the things are old and almost useless, except for some knives and swords at the right wall. A small dagger replaces the one that Dean swore he saw the replica of his knife. He brushes it off.

"Dean Winchester," an old, Irish-accented voice says as he steps in. "Never expected a Winchester in my store after the last one. He left the store in a bit of a bad mood. What was his name? John?"

Dean's heart skips a beat. His father had met Rumplestiltskin. He doesn't know when, he doesn't know how but Dean knows that his father has met him. Dean hasn't even turned around and seen the guy yet and he already doesn't like him.

Dean turns to see a middle-aged man with graying hair that meets his shoulder and a cane standing next to the counter. He isn't exactly what Dean expected Rumplestiltskin to be but who is he to say what to expect? He's still having a hard time whether or not to decide if he believes in this whole mess or not.

"Have we met before?" Dean tries to play off his annoyance with a question instead of lashing out his temper at him. Even though Dean doesn't know him, he could tell that something bad would result with him lashing out at Rumplestiltskin.

"Of course now, but I know a Winchester when I see one. And you do look much like your father," he says. He extends a hand. "Mr. Gold at your service, A.K.A. Rumplestiltskin."

Dean reluctantly shakes his hand, trying hard not to crush it under his grip.

"Well, you already seem to know me," he says.

Rumplestiltskin turns his attention to them as a group. "So, what business do I have with you here?" he asks.

The Blue Fairy takes out the dark scale that Dean almost hates for simply being a _part_ of the creature that took Sam.

"Is this what I suspect?" she asks.

"If you mean a Jabberwocky scale the, yes, it is," he says, a light smile on his face.

The Blue Fairy's expression turns grim. Dean's mouth goes dry. The reality of the situation is suddenly taking a toll on him. He could see it in Emma too.

"You don't mean…" he trails off.

"A _Jabberwocky_?" Emma asks. "A Jabberwocky. You're _got_ to be kidding me!"

"It exists?" Dean asks to nothing in particular. "I mean, Snow White and Prince Charming I can handle but a _Jabberwocky_?! Seriously?!"

"Who said you were gonna handle it?" Emma asks.

Dean turns to her. "It took my brother, Emma. I've got to get him back." He turns to Rumplestiltskin who is all but disappointed with their reactions. "Tell me where it went," he demands.

Rumplestiltskin shrugs, a smirk on his face. "I can tell you, but it'll cost you."

Dean looks to the side. "God dammit, he is into deals," he breathes. He looks back at him. "Cost me what?"

"I don't advise you to make deal or pay Rumplestiltskin _anything_," Castiel's voice suddenly says.

Emma jumps, cursing. Dean smirks, turning around.

"Hey, Cas. What bring you here?" he asks.

"Well, other than the Jabberwocky discovery, I hear you were about to make a deal with Rumplestiltskin," he explains, looking curiously at creepy dolls.

"Ah, Castiel," Rumplestiltskin greets with a smile. "When was the last time we met? Was it when you promised a special…weapon for a couple of souls?"

Castiel stays emotionless and Dean knows that Rumplestiltskin just seems to love to pull string in people. Mentioning his father earlier made him a bit tense but he could tell that Rumple brought it up on purpose.

Castiel turns to Dean. "I advise you _not_ to make a deal with him," he says and then sees the Blue Fairy. "Hello Blue Fairy."

The Blue Fairy waves lightly, giving him a bitter smile.

Dean looks at Castiel. "Is there another way of knowing where Sam is?"

Castiel looks at Dean. "Sam was sent to a different land. The Jabberwocky went through a portal," he explains simply. "Emma might know how to get there." The tone of his voice is final.

"Cas, you better not just…" Dean begins but Castiel is already gone. "Goddammit!"

Dean sees Emma run a hand down her face. He turns to her.

"Do you have any idea what he meant?" he asks.

Emma sighs. "We have to go to Jefferson."

Her tone is dry and Dean could tell that she isn't exactly excited to be meeting this 'Jefferson'. Dean could only wonder who he is.

"Who's he?" he asks.

"The Mad Hatter," she answers as she heads out the door.

Dean groans. "You gotta give me that storybook of yours. It'll help a lot."

"I'll keep that in mind," she says as Dean follows her out. The Blue Fairy follows but then stops.

"I've got to go back to the rest of the fairies. Call me if you are in need of more assistance," she says as she leaves.

"And then there was too," Dean says.

"Oh trust me, if you're been what I've been through, two is a perfect number for _anything_," she says.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, my pretties! I know it's been a long time and I really should get some sort of schedule or dealine for my chapters but this is the only way to keep it going and(in a way) good. So here's another chapter and I hope that you guys can comment and since I jsut want to know what you guys are thinking honestly, constructive critizism is welcome!**

**Unnecessary disclaimer: I own nothing(for shame!)**

* * *

**Emma**

She stands outside the Hatter's house. She remembers the last time that she met up with him. He kept her captive, tied up and forced to make a hat. The result of that encounter ended up with her hitting him up the head with his own telescope. It's awkward to think that their second encounter would be her asking him about the very hat that she said wouldn't work.

"So…the Hatter?" Dean asks, almost like he was trying to believe it himself.

Emma sighs. "Yep."

"And he…travels through…hats…" Dean trails off but Emma knows that it's a question.

"Oh trust me, you haven't seen the half of it," she says.

She knocks on the door. After a moment's wait, the door opens to Jefferson, his face automatically smiling for company but when it turns to Emma, it turns into a knowing smirk, almost like he's teasing her, bragging about the knowledge that she lacked before.

"Well, hello Savior Emma, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming," he greets with emphasis on the information that he was trying to convince her of some time ago. "What brings you here?" is it an apology or another bash over the head with a telescope?"

Emma lets out a small breath, annoyed already and Dean looks at her, his eyebrow raising in question. She gives him a glare, one that tells him to shut up. Jefferson's gaze turns to Dean, looking a bit surprised of the company.

"Oh, and we have a newcomer," Jefferson says, his smirk evident. "What brings you here? Curse, questions…apologies?" he looks pointedly at Emma. Her blood boils at the irritation this man brings her.

"Actually, questions," Dean answers. Jefferson looks back at him, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Once Emma looks at Dean, she sees his expression. Serious and impassive, looking like he's not gonna accept bullshit. Emma smirks, actually liking this interrogative side of Dean. Where was he when she needed a bounty hunter partner?

Emma nods, turning back to the Hatter. "Yes, now let's get down to business. Who made you do it?"

Jefferson feigns confusion. Emma rolls her eyes, chuckling at the thought that he actually thinks that he's going to fool her with that crappy act.

"Cut the crap, hatter. Who made you do it?" Dean asks harshly.

Emma glances at him, still wishing that he was her partner for the bounty hunting job she took up a while ago. He's just so serious. He means business.

"Made me what?" Jefferson asks. This time, his false-innocence is playful and he actually dares to smirk at them.

"Listen Jefferson—" Emma begins.

"I'll give you three second," Dean interrupts, his voice dangerously impatient, "to tell me who made you do it and tell me where the hell you sent my brother."

Jefferson smirks. "Don't think that you can intimidate me—"

"One," Dean interrupts.

"Listen, it's not like—"

"_Two_," he interrupts, yet again.

"Like I'll give in—"

"_Three!"_ Dean says, his voice rising and making both Emma and Jefferson jump. He barges into the room, fisting Jefferson's shirt in his hands. He slams him into the wall, Jefferson's head bonking on the wall. Jefferson grunts in pain and Dean stares at him dangerously.

"Alright, Hatter. Where the _hell_ did you send my brother?" he demands.

"Why should I tell you?" Jefferson asks.

"Because you'll live a _shitload_ of more happy-go-lucky years," Dean growls.

Jefferson swallows, actually beginning to look concerned. That's a first for Emma. Dean is actually _intimidating_ the guy.

"I can't tell you…" he says, his voice strained.

"Why the hell not?" Emma demands, stepping to Dean's side as he holds the Hatter up.

Jefferson squeezes his eyes shut, leaning his head back on the wall. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He actually looks worried. His anxiousness is unsettling. Nothing makes the Mad Hatter anxious unless it is a force that is dangerous to be dealt with.

"Because, the person who made me do it made me swear to secrecy," he says.

Emma's brows furrow, knowing that that's not all. "And?"

Jefferson looks her in the eye, his gaze turning to Dean. "Because the person…threatened her," he whispers, looking at them.

Dean's grip on Jefferson loosens ever-so-slightly. A look of compassion passes through his expression before it returns to the stone-hard look he always has.

"Threatened who?" Dean asks.

Emma's eyebrows soften, gasping inwardly as she realizes who the person threatened to make the Mad Hatter do this was. "Grace," she whispers as she looks at Jefferson, the statement more of an assumption than a question.

Jefferson nods vigorously. "Yes. I just got her back. I've waited twenty-eight years for her to remember me and I'm not about to lose her now." He looks at both Emma and Dean, his expression broken. "You guys have gotta understand."

It stays quiet for a moment as Emma considers this. She would do anything to protect Henry, just about anything. It would be the things that she wouldn't do for him that someone should list. As she thinks about this, she realizes that, even though they've both been deprived of their child for twenty-eight years, he has gotten to see her grow up and get attached to her in the Enchanted Forest only to have her ripped away from him by this curse. He's seen her every day, tortured by the knowledge of her not knowing her own father. Emma gave Henry away at birth so there was not attachment and she barely got him the year before. As she thinks this over, she stares at the man and realizes that she would do the exact same thing if she was given the situation.

Dean lets him drop to the floor, turning away and walking out of the house.

"The things we do for family, huh?" he says as he leaves.

Emma and Jefferson watch him leave, Jefferson massaging his chest. It must've hurt him to be held up like that. They keep watching Dean walk away, passing the bug, walking off the sidewalk and onto the road until he's out of sight completely.

"It is true," she says. Jefferson turns to her, confused. "About the things we'd be willing to do for family. You did it for Grace. I would've done it for Henry."

It stays quiet between the two for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I mean, if it makes a difference in any way, I could offer him a…ride to the Enchanted Forest. Even though he person's destination was Wonderland, my hat can't go there directly at the moment. He'll have to find another way to there, but I'm willing to give him his best chance," Jefferson offers. He turns away from her, beginning to walk down the hall. "Tell him about my offer, please, see if it'll fix anything. I don't think I'll like being on his bad side."

Then she's in the hallway alone, the door wide open. A gentle breeze comes into the room, making Emma shiver and pull her leather jacket tighter around her. She leaves the house, not even closing the door as she thinks through the offer and if Dean accepts. She doubts that he won't.

If he did, she can't let him go alone, he barely knows how to get to the inn, let alone navigate though the Enchanted Forest for Christ's sake. She wonders of the things that she could do to help him. All the other options cancel each other out, leaving her with only one option and the option isn't pleasant, but it's the right thing to do, because either way, Dean would have to prepare himself.

She finds Dean at Granny's diner, eating a slice of cherry pie and a mug of coffee on the side. She approaches him carefully, almost as if trying not to scare him away. He glances at her, acknowledging her presence and goes back to eating his pie. She takes the seat in front of him, wondering how she would start off the conversation.

"It's unfair, y'know?" he says suddenly.

Emma looks at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

"It's unfair," he repeats. "Life. It just throws whatever the hell it wants at you without having anything to affect it but making us live through hell."

Emma sighs, leaning on her elbows. "No need to point that out."

Dean nods, pushing his plate of finished pie away as he shovels the last bite into his mouth and dropping the fork onto it, the sound of metal clinking catching Ruby's attention at the far side of the room where she counts the change she's giving back to Archie.

Dean knits his fingers together as he props his elbows on the table. "I mean, when Sam disappeared and I met you guys…I thought that this was just another demon case or something, maybe some illusion but…" he chuckles, the sound empty of any humor or amusement. "It just…had to be a _fucking_ Jabberwocky. And that isn't all. I had to be stuck in a town with _fairytale characters_. So far today—and I was barely told of your little secret last night—I've met Prince Charming, Snow White, the Blue Fairy, Rumplestiltskin, Red Riding Hood, Red Riding Hood's _granny_ and I'm pretty sure that that Belle girl I met yesterday is _Belle_ from freakin' Beauty and the Beast. I also just happen to be having lunch with the savior of this little town…" he trails off, looking down at the table and letting out a frustrated breath. "I thought that all I had was creatures in heaven and hell and us humans to deal with, not fairytale characters." He looks up at her, making eye contact. "Just when I happen to get used to the idea of leviathans in my life and prophets, something else has to be thrown in the mix. I'm sorry if I offend you or anything but…why fairytale characters?"

It stays quiet and Emma struggles not to ask what the hell leviathans are but she decides to be quiet. Dean is blowing off some steam and releasing some of his stress. Her asking the question will only make him worse. She sighs. She remembers when she was doubtful, a non-believer. Only her case was worse. She denied it completely and probably cost August his life. Where is that puppet anyways…

"I used to think that underpaid bills and global warming were all my problems," she says, looking at him.

He looks up at her and nods. "Never get what we want, do we, Emma?"

Emma shakes her head as Ruby approaches. "Hey, Ems. What can I get for you?" she asks.

"Oh, just some hot chocolate with cinnamon. And make it to go. I think we're gonna be out the door once I get it," she says. Ruby nods, taking Dean's plate as he tilts his head to the side in curiosity.

"Why do you say that?" he asks as Ruby leaves.

Emma leans forward, looking at him. "Jefferson offered us a possible way to save your brother."

Dean visibly perks up at the information, making his eyes go wide and his body lean forward, almost unconsciously. "What?"

Emma nods. "Yes, you heard right. He's offering us a trip through his hat to the Enchanted Forest, but not directly to Wonderland—which is where we need to be. He'll be giving us our best chance at finding your brother, which is all that we need."

Dean sighs, his expression relieved and he lets out a small laugh when he breathes. "Oh, really? I mean, really? I get to save my brother without going to hell or dying?"

"We," Emma corrects.

Dean's eyes harden. "What?"

Then Ruby begins to approach with Emma's hot chocolate and they both shut up, trying not to let anyone overhear their conversation. Once Ruby's left, they both stare down each other again.

"We," Emma repeats more sternly.

Dean gives out a humorless laugh. "Oh, I think not."

Emma tilts her head to the side, mimicking his earlier move. "And why is that?" she asks.

"Well, he's my brother. I'm the one who got him into this mess and I should be the one to get him out," he says but Emma could see straight through his lie.

"And you will be," Emma says, deciding to not point out that his lie is caught. "You'll just have some help."

Dean stiffens, his expression turning into irritation and annoyance, beginning to close himself off. _Great, this again?!_ Emma thinks. _Why does he keep doing this each time I offer help? It's almost like he…_

Emma's eyes soften at the realization.

"I don't need help rescuing my brother. Especially not from Sugar-Plum Princess," Dean says, his stare boring into her.

…_doesn't want help._

"Listen, you know that you need my help," Emma says seriously, deciding not to take no for an answer.

"No, I don—" he begins.

"Have you ever been to the Enchanted Forest?" Emma questions.

Dean stays quiet, swallowing. But then he smirks. "It's the _Enchanted Forest._ What's the worst that could happen? Tinkerbell threatens me with pixie dust?"

"Try ogres," Emma says stiffly, trying hard not to point out that Tinkerbell is most likely in Neverland, if it exists. But she met Captain Hook so why doubt Neverland. "And I'm not even the one that took it down."

Dean's once playful stare turns into a glare. Emma could see him argue with himself in his eyes, deciding whether or not he should use her help. Emma knows that he'll need her help and she's pretty sure that Snow wouldn't be a cooperative partner for him in the forest and Emma knows that she's the closes thing that he's got to a partner and he she.

_He'll see sometime,_ Emma resolves, still staring at him.

Dean sighs, running a hand down his face and Emma gives out a smile of triumph. "Alright, I'll…accept your help. Besides, how hard can it be to kill Shrek?"

"Oh, very hard," Emma mutters, standing upt from the booth they both sat at and paying Ruby her bill. Now all they have to do is bring this up to Snow and Charming.


	10. Chapter 10

**Dean**

"No."

The word is as sharp as a blade of a knife and the finality impossible to miss coming from Snow's lips. It makes his stomach drop to the ground from such shock at her lack of hesitation when it came to answer and her reaction. _It's just the freakin' _Enchanted Forest_! What the hell could go wrong? Other than the ogre issue, I think I'd be fine._

"But Snow, you don't understand. I have to save Sam—" Dean begins as he leans on the counter of the small apartment.

"And you are," she interrupts as she hastily pours cold cocoa into a cup and setting it down roughly before leaving it alone. "But you're _not_ going to go through the Enchanted Forest. It's too dangerous."

Then she moves her attention to a saltshaker that is slightly misplaced from its spot on the counter and she pushes it neatly back in its place. Then she switches the salt and pepper's places and switches them back. Dean knows what she's doing all too well. She's trying to keep herself busy to keep herself from listening to any reason or logic.

"But Mary Margaret, you would do the same. I got through there one time, I can do it again. Maybe I could even have Aurora and Mulan help me," Emma says, stepping closer to the counter, next to Dean. He turns at her curiously. Certainly she couldn't mean she-warrior Mulan…. could she?

"You did but you had me with you. I know about the Enchanted Forest. I've _lived_ there for crying out loud!" Snow says, fiddling with her fingers. "And who knows where you would've been if I didn't jump into the hat with you. For all I know, Mulan and Aurora _wouldn't_ have let you live and you could be _dead_ by now," Snow says, her voice cracking and turning to them. Dean could see tears welling up in her eyes. In the midst of his confusion and thoughts of the fairytales that he's trying to piece out in his head is the lingering observation that she really cares about her daughter—which is almost her age.

It stays quiet and a lone tear runs down Snow's cheek, making her squeeze her eyes shut and look to the ground, her shoulder's shaking in silent sobs. David slowly reaches for her, tugging her by the sleeve and making her sit on his lap as she sobs gently into his shoulder. Dean stands there awkwardly, not knowing what to do in this situation. He just rocks on the back of his heels, attempting to look away from the couple but he needs information about the Enchanted Forest. If he is gonna get through it—no matter how much he hates to admit it—he's gonna need help, even if the help is from Snow White.

Emma approaches Snow slowly. She reaches her hand out to her and places it tentatively on her shoulder. She spreads her hand out and gently rubs Snow's back. Dean just stands there awkwardly.

Emma looks up at Dean, making eye contact. "I think that you should let us talk for a bit. Go talk to Henry. He's been missing you these past days."

Dean nods, all too happy to jump at the opportunity to get away from the scene unraveling before his eyes. As he walks down the hall to what he assumes if Henry's room, he suddenly remembers about the little guy and realizes what a jackass he is for not missing him. He genuinely liked the kid but he's been busy with the issues he's dealing with at the moment. He gently knocks on the door with his knuckles and hears shuffling in the room as a small pitter-patter of footsteps approach the door. It swings open to reveal Henry in pajamas, barefoot. Henry's expression brightens as he sees that Dean is at the doorway. Dean smiles in return, spreading his palm wide so that he could high five the kid.

"Hey, kid. How're you doing?" he greets, stepping into the small room.

Henry high fives his hand, wrapping an arm around Dean in a one-armed hug. "I'm doing great! How did you heal so fast? I thought your leg was broken?"

Dean sits down on Henry's bed as Henry jumps on, settling next to Dean with his legs crossed.

"Well, my angel-buddy helped out a lot," Dean says, smiling at the kid.

"An angel?" Henry asks. Dean nods. "Cool!"

Dean nods, giving Henry a fist bump. "Oh trust me kid, it is _not_ what it's cut out to be," Dean mutters under his breath. Henry doesn't seem to notice. "Hey, listen kid. I was wondering if I could…borrow the book or just read your book about the characters?"

Henry's brows furrow, confused. "But…I thought that you would know since you were there? In the Enchanted Forest?"

"No, I wasn't there for the events but I was…there," Dean says. "Look, can I just borrow it? I'm sorta lost with what's going on right now and I don't like to be lost."

Henry nods. "Sure. You can read it, but the last pages are missing. I bet you already know what happened there," he says as he reaches over to his nightstand and takes the book. He hands it to Dean and Dean takes it, feeling the texture of the leather. He takes a deep breath. This thing _seriously_ held Storybrooke's history. It shouldn't surprise Dean as much as it does that all the occurrences that have happened in this book are real since he's friends with an angel, died twice and stopped an apocalypse from burdening earth. Really, how hard is it to accept that Prince Charming and Snow White exist?

_Very hard, actually,_ he admits to himself.

"Do you want to read it now?" Henry asks.

Dean draws his gaze from the book to Henry. "You mean now?" Henry nods. Dean shakes his head, setting the book down on his lap. "Nah. I came here to hang with my best bud." He says, playfully punching Henry's shoulder.

"So, what were you guys talking about out there?" he asks.

Dean looks at the closed door then back at Henry. "Well, y'know how my brother disappeared?" Henry nods, listening intently. "Well, turns out that the creature I might be dealing with is a Jabberwocky."

Henry's eyes widen and his mouth parts a bit in subtle shock. He looks speechless for a second, then he shakes his head, looking at Dean for confirmation at his next words. "You mean…_Jabberwocky_ Jabberwocky? Alice in Wonderland Jabberwocky?!"

Dean nods, snapping his finger at the kid. "Yep, that's the one."

"B-but how?!" he asks.

"Well…you know Jefferson?" Dean asks.

"The Mad Hatter?" Henry questions, his head tilting to the side.

Dean nods. "Yeah, he…he opened a portal to bring it in."

Henry's expression falls and he looks at his bed sheets, looking confused. "But…but why? Why did he do it? Does he hate you in the Enchanted Forest or something?"

Dean shakes his head. "No. It's just that…someone forced him to do it. They threatened his kid."

"Paige?" Henry asks.

Dean's brows furrow. "No. Grace, I think."

"Well, her name here is Paige but Grace is her storybook name," Henry quickly explains.

"Oh, well back to the story. Someone forced him to send the Jabberwocky here. I don't know why the heck a person has a Jabberwocky to do their dirty work in taking my brother but…it happened and Emma and I are possibly going to the Enchanted Forest," Dean says, leaning his elbows to his knees and looks at Henry intently.

"You are?" he asks.

"Quite possibly," he says, propping his head up with his hands. "We just need Snow's permission. Apparently, we might need some information about what to do when we fight creatures over there or something."

"Oh, well…I'm sure she'll help you. She always ends up doing what's right," Henry says with a small, confident smile.

Dean grins at him, ruffling up his hair. "You have a lot of optimism. That's what I love about you so much."

Henry grins, swatting his hand away when the door opens. David stands at the doorway, nodding the both of them a greeting. Henry waves at him, looking at his grandfather expectantly while Dean just stares at him, already knowing why he's here.

"Dean," David says, leaning forward. "You could…join the conversation again. Sorry Henry."

Henry slouches in disappointment as Dean rises to his feet. Henry waves a goodbye to him as Dean nods a farewell. "G'night Henry."

As Dean closes the door, he follows David back to the kitchen where Snow stands at the counter and Emma sits at a stool. They both turn to Dean when he enters the room and, by the way that Snow's expression looks grim, they are going to have to prepare for a trip to the Enchanted Forest.

"I am…allowing you to go to the Enchanted Forest," Snow announces, not looking at Emma or him but Dean doesn't care. He just wants the information he needs. "I'll be teaching you some things you'll need to learn to survive the Enchanted Forest. Emma, Dean, you'll both be learning sword-fighting and archery from David and I. After the training, I'll be telling you everything that I know about the dangerous creatures there and possible ones from Wonderland. Some of them don't go down easy; you can't just kill them with a jab of a sword. Therefore, I'll tell you ways to subdue the ones I know."

Dean nods, perfectly content with the plan. "Alright but…is the sword-fighting and archery necessary? I mean, I'm fine with a gun and a knife."

"And if you fire a gun, it'll attract other things and I'll guarantee that one of them will be an ogre so, yes, the training is necessary," Snow snaps.

David comes to her side and puts a hand to her shoulder. "Hey, cut 'im some slack. He just found out about us last night."

Snow closes her eyes, clearly stressed and takes a shaky breath. She opens her eyes again and looks at Emma. "Just…be careful there. You're lucky that I decided to let you accompany him," she tips her head to Dean and he furrows his brows. He didn't think that he was that bad of company. Snow looks him up and down and her lips turn downward. "But I can still change my mind."

Dean grins, taking a deep breath through the nose. "I can feel the love."

He could see Emma tilt her head and he could imagine her roll her eyes. She turns to him and sighs. "Well, I think I'll call it a day. G'night guys."

She stands up and heads to the stairs. Snow walks to the bed that sits in next to the kitchen, which Dean finds very odd, and David heads to the door, as does Dean.

"Alright, I assume you've got a place here," he says as he opens the door and Dean steps out, turning around with the book in hand.

"Yep. Got a room in the inn, if that's what you mean," he says, nodding. David's eyes turn to look at the book in Dean's hand and he nods.

"You gonna try to catch up to whatever the hell's going on?" he asks.

Dean nods. "As best as I can."

David chuckles. "Yeah, you'll need that and a bit more information from the townsfolk."

Dean nods. "I'll keep that in mind."

David finally closes the door after a final farewell and Dean turns on his heel, walking away from the apartment and down the sidewalk. He hurries as he turns the corner, trying to be quick in his steps just so he can get to the room and read the damn book already. He looks down at it, seeing the leather bound book in his hand.

Soon, he sees Granny's and heads to the inn. He greets Red and gives her granny a nod and heads to his room. He fumbles while he tries to unlock the door.

He bursts in, closing the door with his foot and not bothering to lock it. He just shrugs off his sweater and drops the book on the bed, turning around to hang his sweater on the hanger and turning back to see Cas sitting on the bed, Henry's book in his hand and eyes skimming over the title over and over again.

Dean jumps, cursing at his sudden appearance. "What the hell, Cas?"

"Who gave you this?" he asks.

Dean sighs, running a hand down his face as he leans his head back. "Henry."

"Emma's son?" Castiel asks.

Dean nods. "Yeah, why?"

Castiel turns the book in his hands, looking at it curiously. "It has not trace of anything supernatural or magical yet it holds all of these people's past. How is that?"

Dean shrugs, taking the book from his grasp. "I don't know. Maybe someone gave it to him as a gift. I'll ask Emma tomorrow."

Castiel nods. "I'll meet up with you guys tomorrow as well. As for right now, I came to deliver a warning. Stay away from Rumplestiltskin. Only come to him when it is of dire need."

Then he's gone. Dean sighs, letting himself fall on the bed, making the springs groan in protest. He's starting to wonder if the angel is and _real_ help or not.

He groans, sitting up and letting out a breath, shaking the sleep out of his eyes. He needs to read the book right now because his curiosity is gnawing at him.

He lays it face up, reading over the title. He stares at it for a moment, contemplating whether or not he _really_ needs to read about Snow White and Prince Charming and other fairytale crap. Then, finally, after getting sick of reading '_Once Upon a Time_' over and over again, he flips the cover, turning to the first page only to read the words again. _Once upon a time…_

_Boy, this is gonna get old quick,_ thinks Dean as he reads the next rest. And that's how he spent the night, reading and reading and reading until finally, exhaustion took over and he falls asleep over the open book after reading it for the tenth time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey, gois! I'm sorry, I know it's been long. I wouldn't be surprised if I lost half of my readers for waiting...how long?...twelve (I think) days! I'm giving you an extra long chapter (I still sorta think that this is long is some of you readers usually read longer chapters) and I hope that you enjoy.**

**Still unnecessary disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

**Emma**

She yawns as she parks the bug, Henry still hyped up as always when it comes to meeting up with Dean.

She turns off the engine and Henry looks at her. "Are you sure Dean's gonna be there? I wanna ask him about what he thought of the book."

"Oh yeah," Emma yawns as she tries to rub sleep from her eyes, opening the driver's door as Henry bounds out of the passenger seat, waiting for her patiently on the other side of the car as she trudges to him. "Yeah, he's gonna be here. And you lent him the book, right?"

Henry nods. "Yeah. I wanna know what he thinks about all this. Maybe he can stay to help us and everything."

Emma just stands there, wishing that she could promise him that but the little that she knows about Dean and the limited information that he gave her about himself lead to him resulting in leaving Storybrooke once he gets his brother back. He _does_ need to go hunt down other creatures out there and he can't just stop doing that because there's this petty town that's not on the map in need of assistance.

"Yeah, maybe," she answers, attempting to hide her doubt.

Henry doesn't seem to notice while he grabs her hand and leads her down the sidewalk, passed the shrubs surrounding Granny's and passed the tables and chairs set outside the restaurant until they stand in front of the door.

Henry pushes it open, greeting Ruby and Granny, smiling at Archie as he passes his booth and sitting in one behind him. Emma approaches Ruby, ordering a coffee and pancakes for Henry with extra whipped cream. Then she moves to the booth, sitting in front of Henry and almost falling asleep until he asks her something.

"Huh?" she asks, perking up and trying to keep herself alert.

"Do you think that Dean's fairytale self has ever helped anyone in the Enchanted Forest? Like Snow or Graham?" he asks.

Emma shrugs, trying not to linger on the thought that Dean practically lied to Henry about being in the book—she'd end up hitting him over the head with the butt of her gun if she did. But maybe it would have been better to process than the fact that there _is_ dangerous creatures in this world and that it's not completely stripped of magic.

"I don't know kid. Why don't you ask him?" she asks.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

Emma looks at him. "No, Henry. I'm not tired at all," she responds sarcastically.

He chuckles, not taking any offense to the sarcasm. Then their orders come and Henry's mouth is busy eating his pancakes while Emma tries to wake herself up with her coffee.

The bell that indicates someone entered the diner rings and Henry immediately brightens up in front of her. He waves and Emma could only wonder who he's waving over. And lo and behold, Dean Winchester plops down on the seat next to Henry, giving Emma a silent greeting. He rubs a hand down his face, groaning as he lazily drops Henry's book on the table and slides it over to him.

"I read about a hundred times this morning. Trippy stuff going on around this town," he says. "I'm not sure if it bothers you but I sort of fell asleep on that thing."

Henry scrunches up his nose. "Ah, you better not have drooled on it."

"No promises," he says, looking at Emma and she realizes that he has bags under his eyes. She could only guess that he's just about as tired as she is. Even though the night before she went to bed before everyone else, she fell asleep hours after everyone else. She was thinking about going back. How could she ever survive? How did she even _think_ that she could survive without Snow? But she already did it and she can't back out now. She already asked Snow why she didn't offer to come with her when Dean was with Henry and she said it was because _someone_ had to assist David keep everything in line while she was gone.

As Ruby approaches, taking Dean's order, Henry looks through the pages, checking for any dried up saliva and finally closes it, satisfied.

"So, when do we start?" he asks.

Someone suddenly appears at Emma's side. "Start what?"

Everyone in the booth jumps at this man's sudden appearance. Emma curses. It's that man from the pawn shop. What was his name? Cas? Castiel?

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean says.

"Who's he?" Henry asks, still a bit startled.

"This guy again?" Emma asks. _I thought I had enough of him at the Pawn Shop and with Ruby._

Dean runs a hand down his face and gestures to Castiel. "Henry, Castiel. Castiel, Henry," he sighs.

"Is he the angel?" Henry asks, looking at Dean but sparing glances at Castiel. Emma scoots to the other side of the booth, squishing herself against the wall but the wall is better company than the _freakin' angel_ sitting next to her.

"You never told me he was an angel!" Emma hisses at Dean.

"I never had time. If you haven't noticed my brother is missing and I had to go to the Blue Fairy, Rumplestiltskin and Snow and Charming for help," Dean snaps back.

"Guys, get over your bickering and let's speak of more important matters," Castiel says. "You are going after a Jabberwocky and must cross worlds. I would be able to cross worlds with you but I can't take another being with me. So I will be able to assist you two if help is needed."

"But how come you can teleport with us but you can't take us through worlds?" Dean questions. Judging by the look on his face, Emma could guess that he's been teleported with the angel once and it must not have been a fun experience.

"I may be an angel but even my power is limited," Castiel says simply.

"But you're an angel," Henry says.

"As I've said before, even angel's powers are limited," he says.

"Well, okay, we have an angel ally, now can we get on with plans on where to go there. Snow gave me some directions on how we might possibly get there," Emma says, feeling unnerved at the information. Who knew that an angel looked so normal? There was ocne a time where she would've given anything to see an angel and thought that the moment would've been more fulfilling. It's not as fulfilling as she thought it would be.

Dean turns his gaze to her. "What'd she say?"

"Well, once you get there, you have to look for a toad," Henry says, taking Emma's chance to speak. He was there when Snow told Emma of the possible ways to get to Wonderland through the Enchanted Forest.

Dean's brows furrow. "Wait, you mean…" he takes Henry's book, flipping through pages until he stops and goes a few pages back and then points at a picture of a toad. "This toad?"

"Yes," Emma confirms before Henry could. "She said that this is some…magical toad that has a bunch of magical things. So the plan is to get to the back woods of a fallen kingdom. There, we'll find a hatch that leads to some netherworld and we'll find the toad there."

"And how will the toad help us?" Dean questions.

"Ask him for magic beans," Castiel says simply.

Henry looks at him, his brows furrowing. "How did you know that?"

He shrugs. "I'm an angel."

"Well, we get the beans and head to Wonderland. Then what? We don't know exactly where Sam is," Dean says.

"Jefferson gave us a vague hint," Emma replies. "It was 'toves' and 'cheese.'"

"What the hell are toves?" Dean asks. "And how the hell does cheese help us look for Sam?"

"It's Wonderland. Maybe there's some weird rule there that cheese is some tracking device or something," Emma says.

"No, toves are these things," Henry says, pointing to a picture of a man standing in front of a mirror and a little white thing that looks like a badger and fox mixed together sits behind the mirror, looking at the man curiously. The man is Jefferson. Emma furrows her brows.

"Okay, so it's a badger thing. How does that help us?" Emma questions.

"Well, in a poem of the Jabberwocky, toves were mentioned. Maybe they know the Jabberwocky or something, even though they don't have direct contact," he says, shrugging. "As for the cheese, I have no idea what it's for."

"Okay so, directions from an animal," Dean says. "Makes perfect sense."

Emma looks at him. "It's Wonderland." That sentence should be an answer itself. "Anyways, there is a risk."

Dean looks at her, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

"It's because…beans are supposedly gone now. There's none left anymore," Emma tells him, cringing and bracing herself for his reaction but is surprised when there isn't any. He just sits there, staring at her. "Um…Dean?"

"If the beans are gone, why are we looking for some?" he asks, his expression giving nothing away from his voice tense and impatient.

"The toad has every magical item there is. If there's no more beans above, there may be a chance that he has some," Henry says, looking at Dean.

Dean lets out a breath. "So what you're saying is that there's a chance that he _doesn't_ have them?" he asks.

Emma looks at him grimly, the answer written all over her face. He groans, running his hands down his face as Castiel sits next to her, his neutrality making her feel a bit squirmy. What type of person is this neutral? _That's the thing, he's not a person. He's a damn angel,_ she thinks but the she begin to wonder if she _could_ say 'damn angel'. Would that get her smited or something?

"So, we go to the toad, ask for beans and then what?" he asks, looking at her.

"Then we just go look for your brother and get back," Emma says.

"Something tells me that this plan is still being thought out," Dean says.

Henry nods. "Wonderland is unpredictable. Snow and Charming are planning this out while we're talking and asking around."

"So I'm assuming that there's not sword training?" Dean questions.

Emma scoffs, already knowing about the hope that he's experiencing, having already experienced it.

"No, we're gonna train at three this afternoon," Emma sighs, taking a sip of her coffee, which is beginning to cool.

"Don't worry, Dean. It's not that hard. I'm learning too," Henry reassures the man.

He smirks at the kid, nudging him. "Well, you must be a master at it, aren't ya?" he asks. Emma raises a brow at him. Dean shrugs. "He must be. If this kid figured out that this town is full of a bunch of cursed fairytale characters before you guys did, he must be a wiz at swordplay."

Henry chuckles. "Eh, I'm okay. Grandpa says that I'm pretty good though, but he says that everything that I do is good."

"Well it is," Emma smiles.

She turns to check her surroundings, a thing that she does since she's sheriff, and notices a small little tight knit group outside the diner. Emma squints her eyes in an attempt to see who it is and she catches her mother's cropped raven hair in the small group and Regina's dark, coffee hair. Emma could only assume that the third figure is David.

"I'll be right back," Emma whispers, beginning to get out of the booth when she remembers that a certain angel is in her way. She looks at him. "Could you move?" she asks him, impatient.

He gets up and she dashes out of the diner as soon as she steps out of the booth. She rushes to the arguing group before anything bad can happen and she already knows about Regina's temper and her mothers. It might seem nosy that she's budding into the argument this way but Emma knows how these things can escalate, especially when the argument is between Snow White and the Evil Queen.

"What could I possibly do to him? He is _my_ son and I love him. What would I possibly do to him that would harm him in any way?!" Regina shouts to her mom and dad once Emma arrives.

Snow is armed with her bow in hand and quiver slung across her back. David has his sword in hand, the one that Emma had defeated the dragon with. A chill runs down her spine. If she goes back to the Enchanted Forest, there might be a chance that she will have to face another one.

She pushes the thought to the back of her mind. If she keeps thinking of those things, it'll make her back out on Dean and she's got a feeling that if she does that, she'll be on his bad side. The little that she knows of Dean tells her that that's not a good thing.

"What's going on?" Emma asks, standing next to David.

Regina looks at her, her eyes blazing with fury. "You're parents won't let me take Henry. I distinctly remember that we made a deal that Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Saturdays are his days with me and you're not holding onto your end of the deal."

Emma groans. _Right,_ she thinks. _Today is Saturday._ She sighs. She'd really just love and argue with Regina all day about keeping her son with her and giving her a million reasons on why she wouldn't hand Henry over to her for the day but she's got Dean and his angel fried to deal with so she'll just have to let Henry go with her.

"What deal?" Dean's voice suddenly asks from behind her. She turns and groans inwardly. Of course Dean would follow her when it was clear that she did _not_ want to be followed.

Emma could see Regina's eyebrows lift in surprise of the new face in Storybrooke. She doesn't look too happy about it but Emma could care less.

"Who the hell is this?" Regina demands, looking at Snow.

David sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows. "This is Dean. He and his brother crashed here a few days ago. You don't have to keep up an act, he knows about us."

Emma ignores Regina's shock and looks at Dean. "Go back inside with Henry. Give this to Ruby, we're gonna be leaving soon," she says handing cash to him. Henry suddenly pops up from behind Dean, making her jump a bit in surprise. What makes her squeal is Castiel actually just popping up beside Dean, who doesn't even flinch at his sudden appearance. Snow and Charming gasp from behind her and she hears the sound of an arrow being notched up and a sword being unsheathed. Emma sighs, turning slightly to see Snow aiming an arrow at Castiel and Charming pointing his sword threateningly at him. Regina just stares at the angel wide-eyed. Emma gently pushes Snow's arrow down and stares at Charming pointedly. They reluctantly lower their weapons and Emma turns to Castiel. "Do you know how to use your legs?"

He shrugs, his face still devoid of emotions. Dean waves a hand at Emma, catching her attention.

"So what's this deal I'm hearing about?" he asks.

Emma sighs and ignores him, turning to Henry. "Henry, grab your backpack, we're gonna be leaving now. You need to go back to Regina."

Henry gives her a look of disappointment. "Really? Right now? I was hoping to be there when David taught Dean how to use a sword." Regina bites her lip at Henry's implication. Emma bites her lip. Part of her wants Henry to push her into letting him stay for the day but the other half is telling her that she shouldn't be hoping for that. Regina was holding up to her end of the agreement and the more recent deals were broken by Emma and her parents in terms of keeping Henry. "Just until noon. Let me stay until noon," Henry pleads his adoptive mother.

Regina looks at Dean. Emma could almost hear the underlying question in her face. _Who the hell are you and why does my son like you so much?_ Emma could only—in a way—sympathize with the Evil Queen.

There's a tense-filled silence as Regina looks back at Henry, her lips parted slightly, ready to answer at any moment and she closes them. She looks at the ground then back at him. "Alright, Henry. Just until noon. I'll have lunch ready by then."

Henry smiles and hugs the woman. She smiles lightly and hugs him back. He turns back to Dean and smiles. "When will the sword-training start?"

* * *

**Sam**

He stares at the candle in the table, watching it flicker and grow under the darkness. That's all that Sam has seen the passing days. Darkness. It's almost like an apparition down in this prison. He could feel it everywhere. Especially around Cora.

Another powerful roar makes the room reverberate and he holds onto the edge of the stone bunk of his. The Jabberwocky's roar just makes his heart skip a beat now. Back then he would freeze and he could swear that his heart suddenly decided to retire.

His injury has gotten somewhat bearable now. Cora would come in every now and then and sprinkle a blue powder over him. It would heal him little by little. Once he asked why she wouldn't just use her magic to heal him completely but she just laughed.

"A bait needs to be alive, not alive _and_ well," she said.

His thoughts turn to Dean. Cora hasn't mentioned anything about him and whenever Sam tried to pry into getting answers from her, she would just smirk and keep going along with her business. The only clue that he has is that he's at the place that she wants him _least_ to be in. Where would that be? There in Wonderland or some other place that could possibly lead to this place. Sam closes his eyes and forces himself to think all things Alice in Wonderland. There's the Mad Hatter—_if the Jabberwocky and Wonderland exists, would the characters also?—_the march hare, Alice, the White Rabbit, the Chesire Cat, those twin brother guys—_what were their names?—_, the Queen of Hearts…_something_.

_Alright, characters clearly aren't working out,_ he thinks, running a hand through his hair. _What about objects? _

The White Rabbit's watch, those growth mushrooms, that one thing…

"God Dammit!" he mutters, frustrated. There's nothing that could help him out except that one rabbit hole and… "The _Looking Glass_."

The door suddenly swings open and the moment Sam has dreaded the whole day is here. Cora's visit.

Ever since he's regained consciousness, he's noticed a pattern in Cora's visits. She would come every three days. He cherishes the three days that he's rid of her absence. He can't stand her or the darkness that follows her around. It bites at his insides wondering just _what_ it is.

"Hello, Sam. How's my lovely guest doing today?" she asks, putting her hand over the other and smiling at Sam. The smile sends chills down his back each time that she points it in his direction.

"Go to hell," he spits.

Her smile turns into a grin and she tilts her head to the side. "Oh, I wouldn't be telling your captor such things, but what else do I expect from you Winchesters?"

She comes closer to him and looks at him expectantly. She holds out a small pouch that he knows holds the powder that heals him. He sighs, reluctantly unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his bandages, wincing when he moves his torso in a way that hurts that particular area. She sprinkles it over his chest and he could feel the few cracks left on his breast plate mend together and the pain on his chest lifts the slightest bit. She soon pulls away, still smiling her Cora smile. He puts the bandages over himself again, his chest still bleeding. Cora didn't have enough sympathy to heal _that_.

He buttons up his shirt. Cora takes a step back, observing him and she sighs. "I noticed how stuffy it is in here and how uncomfortable you might feel. So, I decided that you moved rooms."

Sam raises his brows, suspicious. "Move rooms?" Cora nods. Sam tilts his head back, curious. "Why?"

"Well, I noticed how skitter you were with the Darkness around and I thought that if you are bait, you might as well live in some level of comfort," she says.

Sam raises a brow. "Darkness?"

She smiles. "I know you've noticed it, Sam. That darkness that's always there, that makes the pressure in this room stronger, stronger than it would be in an average room underground. And it only gets worse when I come."

"_That's_ what that is? _Darkness_?" Sam asks skeptically.

She waves it off with her hand. "Oh, don't make it such a big deal. Now, get up." Sam is lifted off the bunk by an unseen force. He sees her finger being pointed upwards and jerk towards her. His body unwillingly does the same. She's using her _magic_ on him. He sighs. This is almost like dealing with a demon. His body hovers lightly over the ground, just a few centimeters as he goes up some stairs. Right when he reaches the top, a small window streams some sunlight in, warming his skin but blinding his eyes. He cringes back, squeezing his eyes shut. Once his eyes adjust, he sees that there are much more cells there in this part. Wooden doors have a small little window on them with bars in between to prevent any form of escape. He's thrown into one of them, grunting as he lands on the floor. "There you are. I'm sure that this one is much more comfortable."

He glares at her over his shoulder until the door shuts closed, the hinges creaking. He looks around. This room was a bit more hospitable, in a dungeon, jail-cell type of way. There's a bucket in the corner and a lumpy, dirt and dust coated mattress and a small window that allows him to see the outside with limited vision. The window is about five inches tall and seven inches wide. It, too, has bars and he sighs. No escaping anytime soon.

He stands up, sucking in a breath as he stands. His cracked breast plates limit his choices of action greatly, which is another reason that escape isn't going to be coming anytime soon.

He approaches the window, sighing. He could already see how Wonderland got its name.

The only normal thing out there is the blue sky and the lush, green field of grass and the towering oaks and maple trees, but that's where the normality ends. As cliché as it sounds, five foot mushrooms with shorter, three-footers invade the fields. Moss of yellow, blue, green and every color of the rainbow sprinkle over the moist dirt and tall blades of grass with giant drops of dew drip down the tips of them at the base of the tall trees. The occasional ten-foot-tall dandelion grow within the fields. Snap-dragon flowers sit at either side of the window Sam looks through. The size of them isn't what freaks Sam out. It's the way that they growl and flowers are actual dragon heads with fangs and forked tongues and everything. One of the catches sight of him and strikes at him, snapping its jaws. Sam jerks back, gasping at the sight before him.

"_Snap-dragons,_" Sam mutters. "Great security."

"You're lucky they aren't dragon flies. Really, those things are relentless and don't let me have a speck of beauty sleep," a male, British voice says outside the window, snapping Sam's attention to a little white creature. It looks like some badger-squirrel hybrid, it's plush tail wags behind it as his beady eyes look at him, curious.

"Did you just…talk?" he asks.

"Oh, please, don't tell me that you're another one of those fellows from the magic-less realm. Those truly are annoying, saying that I shouldn't be talking and such. Really, who are _they_ to tell me that I shouldn't be talking? It's not like they're the queen or anything. _Then_ I would consider maybe shutting up once in a while," it says. Sam jumps back, his eyes wide. _A fucking animal just talked to me,_ he thinks. The animal just sighs, bringing its paw up to its forehead. "Oh, dear, you are." Its ear flicks a bit as he looks up slightly. Sam steps closer to the window and the Snap-Dragons begin to snap at him again, making him jump back.

"How come they're not going after you?" Sam asks, his voice thick with fear as his gaze flickers from the Snap-Dragons to the animal.

"Because they're been enchanted. They read thoughts and have been trained to attack the objects that have intention of going in or out. I, however, do not have such intentions, unless I have a death wish. Really, those creatures have a nasty bite," the animal says.

_Oh, how lovely,_ Sam thinks. _A selfish, know-it-all_ _animal._

"What exactly are you?" Sam asks.

"I am a Tove. Much of the fellows in your realm question me about what creatures I am but they ask in a more panicked demeanor. Thankfully, you don't look like the type that panics. Makes conversation much easier," the Tove says, moving his paw to his chest in an indication of introduction.

"Do you have a _name_?" Sam asks, his gaze still flickering to the Snap-Dragons. He approaches carefully and they don't snap this time, but they do give low, guttural growls.

"Not particularly. And what do _you_ address yourself by?" the Tove asks.

Sam finally approaches the window and leans on it, the Snap-Dragons finally leaving him alone. He attempts to clear his head of any escape plans. He doesn't plan on escaping but it's almost like those thoughts come unconsciously to him now with his Hunter job and everything. "Sam," he says simply.

"Well, Sam, how did you find yourself here?" the Tove asks. "Normally, people from Wonderland come to these dungeons for committing a crime and the folk from your world come as some kind of bait or key to something that the Queen wants. What are you to her?"

Sam sighs, leaning his elbows on the ground outside, running a hand through his hair. "Bait."

"For what?" the Tove asks.

Sam lets out a long breath before taking a deep one, ignoring the sting in his chest. "My brother."

"And what does the Queen want with your brother?" he questions.

"I don't fucking know!" Sam snaps. "And who is this queen anyways?! And don't fucking tell me that it's the Queen of Hearts!"

The Tove tilts his head to the side. "Well, at your requirements, choices become very limited."

Sam groans, laying his forehead on his arms. He grumbles obscenities, cursing his life and hobby with the paranormal.

"Well, if I ever meet a fellow in search of his brother, I'll let you know," he says and with that, the Tove is gone.

Just then, Sam begins to wonder what would happen if Dean came to save him. Cora seems like a merciless woman. It's obvious that she didn't send him up here because he looked "uncomfortable". Why did she send him there?

He sighs, leaning away from the window and walking to the make-shift mattress. He sits down on it, leaning back on the stone wall. What _did_ Cora want with Dean?

* * *

**Cora**

She looks out the window, a smirk playing across her lips. A Tove is already talking to him. Chatty things, those things are. She was never really fond of them but she could always use their big mouths to her advantage.

She smiles. She knows that Dean Winchester should be going through a portal anytime soon, all she has to do is wait, and Cora is very good at waiting.

She turns around, a portrait of Regina, her father and herself. She smiles. _Soon,_ she thinks to herself. _You'll be happy, Regina._


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello my pretties! I see that it's been a long time since I've posted and I'm sorry...again. Please don't send a sniper for me if you thought that I left any of you guys hanging. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy and here's the newest chapter. I apologize for any grammatical errors or misspells. My sister always whines about it. By the way, I guess I sorta decided that this is after Cora's death and I made a little 'what-if' situation in the story. If it bothers any of you, sorry.**

**Unnecessary disclaimer: Do I even have to say it?**

* * *

**Dean**

He swings the sword at Charming once more, trying to get the maneuver that he was just taught right, but he just blocks it and gives Dean a swing of his own, the wooden sword hitting his side. Dean curses, his arm dropping to his side and he runs a hand down his face. A sudden whack to the head makes him jerk back and look at him.

"What was that for?" Dean asks, irritated.

"Don't curse in front of my grandson!" Charming scolds him and Henry, who has his own wooden sword, laughs. He's been watching Charming teach Dean how to use a sword and a maneuver that Dean just can't get right even though it's very simple. He ignores his mother (much to her despite) while she has her archery lesson from her mother.

Dean sends Henry a death glare. "You're gonna get it."

"You can't even beat my grandpa," he retorts and Dean gives him another glare. He couldn't argue with that without his explanation sounding weird. Charming looks at Henry also, giving him his own offended glance.

"I'll let this one slide," Dean says.

"Alright, Dean, concentrate," Charming tells him, drawing Dean's attention back to him.

"'Kay, Charming," Dean sighs, looking at him. He waits for Charming to make the first move, going through the maneuver in his head. _Just block and strike. Block and strike,_ he thinks to himself as Charming finally swings the wooden sword over his head and strikes at Dean. Dean clumsily blocks the strike and quickly gives him his own. Henry cheers in the sideline and Charming gives Dean a congratulatory smile. Dean smiles, feeling successful.

"Hell yeah," Dean says, grinning. A whack to the head makes Dean curse again. "What the hell, man!?"

Charming glares at him. "I told you not to curse in front of my grandson!"

Dean looks at Henry. "It's his fault for being there."

"It's _my_ turn now," Henry says, coming up to the two men. Charming smiles at him.

"I believe it is," he says.

"Thank God. I've had enough of sword play today," Dean grumbles, dropping the sword.

"Fine, you have five minutes. You've only learned five maneuvers today. We just have one more to go through," Charming says as he demonstrates the maneuver that he was teaching Dean to Henry. "Besides, you're just learning the basics. You've still got a lot to learn."

Dean groans inwardly and goes to the bench in front of the rocks. They've been practicing beside the swing on the beach. He hears Emma's distant voice curse and her mother encouragingly reassure her. He smiles. Looks like he's not the only one struggling with his lessons.

He looks behind him, over the rock and sees Emma yank out an arrow from a wooden log that holds a sack of sand with a target spray-painted on. She picks up a couple more that are behind the target and one that has stuck onto the edge of the sack, a couple inches away from the rings of the target.

"I don't know. Maybe a bow just isn't my weapon," she says, stalking back towards Snow, who hands her the bow. Emma nocks an arrow and hastily aims it at the sack. When she lets it loose, the arrow flies over the sack and lands in the sand a couple yards behind it. Dean chuckles.

Emma curses and reaches for another arrow in the quiver slung across her back. Dean stands, wondering if passing the time learning how to shoot with the bow early will distract him enough from the frustrating weapon that he struggles with.

He strolls over to Snow as Emma fires another arrow, hitting the sack in the sixth ring and Snow sighs, looking at the ground. "Emma, are you even aiming?"

"Does pointing the arrow in the general direction count?" she asks.

Snow sighs and notices Dean, who stands beside her. "Oh. Hi, Dean. Didn't see you there," she admits, handing Emma another arrow that she struggles to reach in the quiver.

"Hi," Dean greets lamely, seeing Emma fire another and missing the target sack altogether. The arrow lands in the sand a couple yards behind the sack again.

"How's your lesson going?" Dean asks lamely, already knowing the answer.

"Horrible," Emma grumbles, notching another arrow. She pulls that string back and closes one eye, letting loose the arrow. "How's sword training?"

"It's going _lovely_," Dean states, sarcasm tainting the positive words. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, letting out a breath through his lips.

"Trade lessons for today?" Emma asks.

"I would if I could," Dean says.

"You could, for all I care," Snow says. Emma looks at her, her brows raised. "You've made it sort of obvious that the archery isn't your thing."

"I'm more of a fire arm person," she confesses. "You'd think there wouldn't be much of a difference."

"I'm willing to do it," Charming's voice says behind him. Dean starts a bit and looks over his shoulder to see Charming standing there, leaning on the sword with Henry at his side.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asks. "I thought you were training Henry?"

"He's got the maneuver down," he says. Henry chuckles and Dean glares at him. It's official. He's the worst knight ever.

"So, trade?" Emma asks, a bit eagerly.

"If you're willing to learn almost all the basics that I taught Dean. It did take about two hours or so. But I'm not sure if that was because of his…skill with the sword," Charming says. Dean doesn't even try to roll his eyes at that, knowing that it was true.

"And if you're willing to do the same. Start over, I mean," Snow says, looking at Dean.

"That's how long it'll take for me to perfect my aim. I'll just be saving everyone's time," Emma says, shoving the bow in Dean's hands. She takes the quiver off and hands it to Snow.

"Swords just don't work with me. It took me hours just to learn four maneuvers—"

"Five," Henry corrects. Dean glares at him.

"_Five_," Dean growls, correcting himself. "Just…teach me how to use the damn bow."

Dean flinches, almost expecting Charming to whack him over the head again but instead Charming tosses a wooden sword to Emma and she catches it by the hilt, spinning it in her fingers until the point is facing the ground. Henry greets his mother with a hug and they walk away.

"You do realize that you'll have to learn how to do the rest tomorrow, right?" Snow asks him, handing him the quiver.

"Eh, any time delaying the sword fighting will be enough for me to try to fix my shattered pride," Dean murmurs, slinging the quiver over his shoulder.

"Ah, all across your chest," Snow says, her voice lightly demanding.

He sighs, attempting to put it on as she instructed but the strap is not long enough. He adjusts it until it feels comfortable and goes all across his torso—from his shoulder to his waist—and he could reach the arrows fine.

"Alright, now, stand right here and we'll begin," she says, leading him to the spot Emma was formerly in.

Dean stands on the spot, facing the target. "When you use your bow, you have to have your dominant hand pull the string and have your dominant eye aim," she says, turning him to the side. "When you pull the string, pull it all the way to your chin or cheek, whichever you prefer."

Dean pulls the string back to his cheek, and prepares to let loose.

"Wait, not yet," Snow interrupts. She nudges his elbow a bit higher and his arm that holds the bow a bit lower until his arms are aligned. "Always keep your arms aligned when you shoot. The arm guards and finger gloves that I have only fit Emma and me. The ones that Gipetto is fashioning for you are supposed to be ready _tomorrow_," she says pointedly, looking at him. He smirks. He's just that bad at sword fighting.

"Gipetto fashions those things? I thought that he was a toy maker?" he asks.

"Yeah, but anyways, as long as you don't have them yet just…make sure that you don't hit your arm when the string bounces back."

"Does it hurt?" Dean asks cautiously.

Snow nods. "More than you know."

Dean sighs, closing his right eye and does his best to aim the arrow to the center. He looks between the broad head arrow and the big, red dot that acts as the bulls eye and lets loose the arrow when he thinks that it seems like the right spot. He sucks in a breath when it hits dead center of the bull's eye. Snow lets out a small laugh and shushes it, then lets it out again.

"W…wow. You…you _got_ it. And on the first try," she says.

He lets out a laugh. "Yeah. I…guess I did," he says, smiling. A slow, stinging pain rises on the soft, sensitive skin under the arm and he looks at it. A pink welt is beginning to turn red by the second and he hisses in pain. He curses.

Snow looks at him and he gently touches it, withdrawing his fingers when it feels like it's touching an open blister. "Ooh, yeah. I warned you."

"How the hell could it hurt this much?!" he asks, shaking his arm and hoping that it'll go away soon.

Snow shrugs. "Don't ask me. I'll get arm-guards for you tomorrow. And the gloves. But you're going to be having sword-lessons tomorrow."

Dean groans. "I'm not good with a sword," he admits. "Why do I have to learn?"

"Because the Enchanted Forest is dangerous. There are some monsters that you wouldn't want to meet and very few people what would be happy with your return. God help you guys, you hopefully won't meet Hook," she says.

"Hook?" he asks. Why did that name unnerve him so much?

Snow shakes her head and puts a hand up, signaling him not to ask. "That's a story for another time. Just shoot. See if you could do that twice," she challenges, gesturing to the target.

He smiles, pulling an arrow out of the quiver on his back. He notches it and pulls the string back, minding the distance between his arm and the string. He closes his right eye and holds his breath when he aims and lets loose of the arrow. His heart skips a beat when it hits the dead center again, exactly beside the first one.

"Oh, hell yeah!" he hoots, letting his arms drop to his sides.

"Well, good job. Now do it again," Snow says, her arms crossed.

Dean sighs, notching another arrow. "Is this gonna be it?" he asks as he closes his eye again. He aims the arrow to the bull's eye and lets the arrow loose. It hits it a bit above the first one but is still in the bull's eye.

"Pretty much. I wasn't expecting to go through much on the first day with Emma or you but you seem good at this. Have you ever taken lessons?" Snow questions curiously.

"Nope. First time holding a bow," Dean can't help but brag as he notches another arrow. As he lets this one loose, the string hits his arm. _"Shit!"_ he curses, jerking his hand back and dropping the bow to the ground. Even though his arm hurts like a bitch, he sees that he hit the center again.

"Other than what just happened, you seem to be really good at it," Snow says as she hastily picks up the bow, obviously peeved off that Dean dropped it. She hands it back to him and he reaches to his back for another arrow. The welt on his arm feels like the sting that you have on an open blister, if that blister spread all over the upper half of his arm.

"Eh, maybe I just have good aim," Dean shrugs it off. "Besides, I shouldn't be bragging about being good at a chick's weapon."

"Chick's weapon?" Snow questions, her already-crossed arms are crossed tighter around her chest. Dean shrugs, suddenly regretting his choice of words.

"Well, you never see any badass guy with bows and arrows. So far, I've been making a better Katniss than knight in shining armor," he admits, notching another arrow and lets it loose, minding his arm. He makes it in the center once again.

"What about Robin Hood? And Hawkeye?" she questions.

"By the way, I've been wanting to ask, is Robin Hood real?" he asks, trying to avoid the losing argument.

"Yes, he's real. Now answer me," Snow demands sternly, clearly offended of what he said. He notches another arrow and lets it go, pretending to be astounded by the fact that he made it in the center again, but most of the phoniness is real. He doesn't want to have his already shattered pride get shattered even more by admitting to Snow White that he was wrong.

"Yes, those guys are completely badass with a bow. Alright, I get your point. Can we get on with the fact that I haven't missed one shot?" Dean says, grinning, trying to cover up his wounded pride. "Can I get a little congrats for that?"

Snow looks at the target and her mouth parts the slightest bit, obviously a little surprised that he didn't miss a shot even when they were talking. He smiles, feeling satisfaction settle into his stomach and mend up his broken pride. He just surprised Snow White. You don't get to say that every day. Then again, most people only know that Snow White let some old lady poison her with an apple so announcing that you impressed her is like announcing that you impressed your bulldog with a t-bone.

"Well, you're a pretty…fast learner," Snow says, clearing her throat, even though Dean could tell that it was completely unnecessary. She wasn't telling him something and he didn't like it. People keeping secrets from you resulted in surprises. Now, if you're a Winchester, surprises equal demon possession or certain death, so you could understand why secrets don't go well with Dean. But, none the less, he just brushes it off, his gaze lingering on Snow's phony smile as he turned, reaching for another arrow in the quiver only to have his hand grasp at empty air.

"I'm gonna get the arrows back," he announces, walking to the arrows and handing Snow the quiver. As he walks along, he can't help but look over his shoulder and give Snow one last glance before occupying himself with retrieving the arrows. He yanks them out of the sack, noticing how deep they are. The sudden curiosity of how he actually made all those shots begins to gnaw at him. He hasn't really held a bow in his life. Well, maybe a crossbow or something like that but hasn't exactly used a legit bow and arrows. He just aimed and shot and a small feeling in his gut tells him that it was okay to be able to do this. Almost like if he _should_ be able to do it. He sighs, shaking his head and lets out a breath. The Storybrooke magic is starting to get to his head.

He goes back to Snow, placing the arrows into the quiver. He suddenly realizes that the training so far has been quiet, on both the sword-fighting and archery. _How's Emma doing?_ He begins to wonder. _Better than you were doing, most likely,_ he tells himself as he draws another arrow from the quiver. He closes one eye and aims, letting the arrow go. It makes it in the center again. _Seven bull's eyes in a row._

A small tug in his gut tells him to turn. His lowers his raised arm and looks toward the trees, the trees next to the swing that Emma and Charming are practicing at with Henry. In front of the brush and trees stands Gold—or Rumplestiltskin? He doesn't know what to call him—standing there, looking straight at him. A chill runs down his spine. He grimaces, the feeling in his gut disappearing but being replaced with an inside of his clenching at the imp's presence. He looks away, raising his arm again and pulling out another arrow. He ignores the gnawing feeling of someone watching him and the feeling intensifies. He focuses on the broad arrow head, looking between the center of the target and the broad head like he did the first time he shot an arrow earlier today. As he lets it go, it _thwunk_'s into the center but not exactly in the middle, like he was hoping. It was more on the right side than the middle. His stomach sinks. He wasn't exactly aiming there but at least he made it to the middle.

"Wow," he hears Snow say. "I mean…_eight in a row_. Are you _sure_ this is your first time?"

"Yep. I don't…remember ever holding a bow, none the less shooting one," he says, looking at her.

Her eyes turn to his, meeting his hazel ones. "Neither did Mary Margaret."

* * *

**Emma**

She walks side by side with Dean. After the training was over, Henry and Emma decided to have dinner at Granny's and Dean, with his love for pie, wanted to tag along. Henry, of course, agreed without hesitation. Emma was more reluctant but after she saw Dean's haunted face, she decided to let him. She knows that Dean's stress-reliever is pie so why not let the guy have his pie?

As they walk, Henry walks in front of them, smiling and happy, just as Emma wishes he was every day. Emma steals a glance at Dean, seeing him just the slightest bit pale and a haunted look in his eyes as he looks at the ground, eyes moving from side to side, as if reading something over. _What's on his mind?_ She can't help but think. He hasn't looked this bothered and, she has to admit, it's a bit unnerving.

As they enter the diner, Emma's happy to see that only three people occupy the establishment. Only Archie, Ruby and Granny, but she's not sure if the last two count as occupants since they work there.

"Hello, Emma. Henry," Archie greets as they go through the door but as his eyes land on Dean, he hesitates. Emma can't help but notice a small shred of fear and discomfort in his eyes. "Um, Mr. Crow."

Dean's head snaps up, almost seeming like it's the first time he's seen a person. Emma could feel the discomfort between the two. None of the townsfolk exactly had a good first impression from Dean—him being bloody, broken and all.

"Um…just call me Dean," Dean says gruffly, not bothering to smile as he looks at the floor again. "Mr. Crow makes me feel old…and fake."

As Henry pulls Dean to sit beside him in a booth, Emma slides into the one in front of him, wishing that Castiel wouldn't do his whole teleporting thing. It scares the hell out of her.

"So…how was the…training?" Emma asks, even though she peeked at him earlier when Gold popped by.

"Oh, it was…fine," he says, still looking bothered.

"Mom was really good with the swords," Henry gloats, looking at her proudly. She smiles, a warm feeling settling in her stomach, honored that her son is so proud of her.

"Oh, thanks for shoving it in, Henry," Dean says with a laugh, a warm smile overpowering his discomfort.

Ruby sashays over to their table, her notepad.

"Hey, guys. What drove you out of the diner earlier?" she asks, crossing her arms. "You didn't even pay the bill."

"Oh," Dean says, an embarrassed smirk on his lips as he takes out a crumpled up ten dollar bill and throws it in front of Ruby, who takes it questioningly. "My bad."

"This is ten bucks," she states. "You only had one pie."

"Well, the other five is for another pie. I've been feeling pretty hungry today," he explains, rubbing his stomach.

"Okay. Got ya," she says, writing his order down on her notepad. She looks at Emma. "What about you?"

"Nothing today," Emma says, her eyes wandering to Dean.

Ruby turns to Henry. "Anything for you?"

"A hot dog and a coke," he says. Ruby writes it down and leaves their table, giving Dean a wink that did not go unnoticed. He smirks, returning it and looking back at Emma and her son.

"So…are we just gonna eat because I get the feeling that we should be talking about the plan," he says, leaning his elbows on the table.

"Yeah, we've still gotta make a plan but Snow and Charming know almost everything about the Enchanted Forest. We can't really make a plan when we know almost nothing about the destination. They would go with you to help you save your brother but this town needs their king and queen. The last time one of monarchs wasn't here, almost everyone tried to leave the town and start a life without their memories," she tells him. He raises his brows and Emma gives him a look that says, _I'll tell you about it later._

Ruby comes over with their orders, holding Dean's cherry pie in one hand and holding Henry's hot dog in the other. Dean smiles at the arrival and hungrily digs into his pie, shoveling a fork-full of pie into his mouth and Henry takes a bite out of his hot dog, leaving Emma to just stare at the two while they eat. Having nothing else to do, she looks around. Archie has left some time ago and they're the only patrons at the diner. Just as Henry finishes half of the hot dog, the bell jingles and Henry's happy face turns into a somber one, looking disappointed. Dean's eyes narrow and Emma turns, seeing Regina cross over the threshold and walk toward their table. She ignores Dean's suspicious gaze and walks until she stands at the foot of the table, looking at them all.

"Hello Emma. Dean," she greets, giving them both acknowledging looks. She looks at Henry. "C'mon Henry, it's time to go. Dinner's ready."

As Regina looks at him, she notices his half-eaten hot dog and almost done fries. "I already started eating," he admits.

The look on Regina's face is a bit solemn and she nods. "Alright. I'll just save it for tomorrow. Let's go."

"Bye Emma. Bye Dean," he says, looking at Dean and waiting for him to scoot over.

"As much as I hate the idea of you going with the _Evil_ _Queen_," Dean says, putting emphasis on Regina's moniker as she gives him a deadly glare. "I'll let ya go."

"It's alright. She won't hurt me," he reassures him, scooting out of the booth and suddenly gives Dean a hug. "Bye Dean," he says.

Dean's expression is almost unreadable. His brain almost seems dead as he returns the hug, his arms wrapping around her little boy. A flash of something passes through his eyes as he lets go. It almost seems like longing or…pain. She's tempted to ask why it's there but she squelches down the curiosity, deciding that it would be something too deep for Dean to dig up and reveal to her.

As he sits back down on his side of the booth, Henry hugs her and Emma returns the hug, smiling as she says goodbye to him. The two leave and Emma and Dean are left alone in the diner.

"So…what's bothering you?" she asks finally, wanting her thirst for the answer quenched.

He looks at her, raising his brow. "Am I that obvious?"

Emma nods. "Yep. A bit," she says.

"Well…I guess it has to do with my training," he says, twiddling his thumbs. He looks at his pie, pushing it away even though it wasn't finished. Emma raises her brows. He just rejected his pie. This has got to be bothering him.

"How was training?" she asks, looking at him curiously. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he says, looking at her. "It was going great actually. A bit _too_ great."

_Yeah, I remember,_ she thinks, going back to earlier when she sneaked a peek at his training.

"_Keep your eyes on the opponent, Emma. Don't take your eyes off," David tells her for the hundredth time even though she hasn't removed her eyes from his moving figure._

_The training has been going surprisingly great. The resemblance between her father and her has just been enhanced and she smiles when he strikes and she blocks, spinning the wooden blade around his and knocking it out of his hand, like he showed her. That was supposed to be the last thing that he taught her and she's done it about five times without error._

_David lets out a laugh. "Perfect, just like I taught you!" he says, walking towards her and wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace._

"_Yes, the father-daughter resemblance is starting to show," Gold's voice suddenly says. Emma turns in her father's arms while they fall to his side as he stiffens. Henry, who was watching Emma train, has stood up, only a couple feet from the imp. She pulls Henry away from him and ignores Gold's phony hurt. She knows that he won't do anything but that doesn't mean that she trusts him around her son. "What do you want?"_

_Gold smirks, tilting his head slightly to the right. "Nothing that you are in possession of at the moment. I'm just popping by, watching the training day. I see that Dean has a bit of talent with archery."_

_Emma, curious, turns to look over the rock, seeing three arrows on the target, dead-center, along with three others._

Impossible,_ she thinks, looking at the other two arrows in the quiver and can't find any on the ground. _He couldn't have possibly made every single one,_ she thinks._

_A sudden flash of wood appears in front of her eyes and David brings her attention back to him._

"_Just ignore him. You've gotta train, remember that," he says._

_Emma nods, peeking back at Dean as he shoots another arrow and makes it dead center. _Lucky-ass bastard.

_Well, what's so wrong with that?_ She thinks to herself. "What do you mean?"

Dean looks at her. "Keep in mind that I have _not_ held a bow in my life," he tells her. Emma sighs.

"I know that already. What happened?" she presses.

"Well…I've been making every single shot that I shot. I'm not sure about you but…it's a bit _too_ good of a result for someone who barely started off," he says.

Emma's mouth parts, regarding him with mock-shock. "You made every single shot? Well, that's great, Dean! You're doing better than I was. What's so wrong with that?"

"It's not that _that's_ what's bothering me. It's your mom's implication of what it meant," he says. Emma stares at him, confused. "Your mom _implied_ that I might be a storybook character."


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys! I'm extremely sorry that I took so long to update...again. I was at vegas at five of those days and I was having trouble writing the rest. Sorry! But I hope that you like this chapter. Over 5,000 words! Yay!**

**Unnecissary(did I spell that right?) disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

** Emma**

She sips on her coffee, not even tasting the bitter liquid since her concentration is on her mother as she washes the dishes absent-mindedly. She watches as her mother scrubs a particularly grimy pan that was used for macaroni and cheese the day before. The conversation from the day before lingers in her mind, leaving her emotionally drained. She already broke the curse of the citizens of Storybrooke. Two more characters who don't have their memories—and most likely need them back—might just send her over the edge. She sighs, closing her eyes. She can't be thinking of these things. They'll only bring her down and she'd rather be up. But honestly, who the hell wouldn't?

_Think about the day. Think about the day,_ she tells herself, remembering that her parents gave her the privilege to take the day off today. Apparently, they both decided that she wasn't having enough time with Neal so they agreed to have lunch that afternoon with Henry while Dean trains. She sighs. Neal: the only person that she has been trying to avoid in Storybrooke.

She knows that it's immature and childish but she just can't face him. He _left_ her for crying out loud, _left her_. And he's just back, just like that. She didn't even have time to get her 'how-could-you' speech ready. And not only that, but he knows about Henry. And then Dean crashed into town and he was the perfect excuse to keep herself away from him. And thank her lucky stars that Henry took such a liking to Dean. He's been keeping the boy occupied in terms of 'pals' and 'buddies.' It's almost astounding how immature Dean is. He gets along perfectly with Henry. But his surprisingly fast transition from immature to serious is a bit unnerving. She would almost consider it bipolar but, eh, the guy means good. _I'm going to have to face him,_ she thinks, turning her thoughts back to Neal. She knows that Neal doesn't mean to ruin their lives or anything, he just wants to get to know his son but she can't help but pin the blame on him for her trust issues, for the walls that he caused to turn from brick to steel. But as she thinks back the relationship that he's trying to build with Henry, all she feels is guilt for pushing him away from not her, but from Henry, who needs a father figure in his life. She hasn't even given him a chance.

She sighs. Looks like she can't have any happy thoughts to bring her _up_.

"Are you alright, Emma? You're not looking too good."

David's voice draws her out of her thoughts, making her snap back to reality as she turns to him, remembering that he was sitting there ever since she came to the kitchen. She nods her answer too quick to be real and he knows. He covers her hand with his, getting her to look him in the eye. "You could tell me anything, Emma. You know that, right?" he says sincerely and she fights back tears. Why couldn't Regina just back the fuck off and not make the curse? She's taken away Emma's chance at having this, having a caring family and a good life. "Is it the lunch plans? Is it Neal?"

She sighs. She actually sort of wishes that assumption was true.

"No, it's not. It's actually something to do with Dean," she says, running a hand through her locks of hair, feeling stressed.

Mary Margaret, who has been listening to the conversation but hasn't budded in has put the dish rag down and set the dish she was drying in the rack. Her concerned eyes turn to her. Emma meets them, swallowing.

"What is it? Did he do something?" David asks, his tone concerned and serious.

Emma shakes her head. "No, no. He…he didn't do anything. It's just that…he mentioned something. Something that I found pretty unsettling."

Mary Margaret's brows furrow with interest and David leans in closer. "What did he say?"

"Well, he mentioned a conversation that he had," she says, watching Mary Margaret's expression go from concerned into nervous. "With you, Mary Margaret."

Mary Margaret's mouth parts slightly. David looks turns to her mother, eyes curious. "What…was the conversation?"

Emma sighs. This was going to spark up a new problem that they have to deal with, but only if it's true. She takes a deep breath. Something about Dean was different, that much she could tell, but Storybrooke different, not so much.

"Well…I think Dean is…different," Mary Margaret says cautiously. "But like…_our_ kind of different."

David pauses for a moment, trying to process what his wife was trying to imply. "What do you mean '_our'_ kind of different?"

Mary Margaret sighs. "Well…when we were training, remember how I said he did 'fine?'" David nods. "Well, that _might've_ been an understatement."

"He made every freakin' shot," Emma says bluntly, trying to get Mary Margaret to spill it out to him already.

David raises his brows at both of them, confused. "This is relevant to him being different why?"

Mary Margaret looks at both of them, leaning her back on the sink behind her. "Well because I think that he may be from…the Enchanted Forest."

Both of the women in the room stay silent for a minute or two, trying to let him try to process what Mary Margaret suspecting.

"What?!" is his response. "How could you think that?"

"It's just that, he's taking it so calmly, all of this. He doesn't even seem to mind that he's crossing over realms or anything—" Mary Margaret says.

"Of course he's taking it calmly! He hunts demons, werewolves, ghosts and has come through hell and back. He died two times for crying out loud!" Emma says, trying to prove Mary Margaret's wrong.

Mary Margaret raises her brows at Emma's knowledge. "He's gone through hell and _back_?"

"He _died_ two times?!" David asks.

"Oh yeah that was...something he preffered you guys not know," Emme says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"But how did he come back..." David begins to question.

"Let's just get back to the conversation at hand!" Emma says, looking at both of her parents. "Mary Margaret thinks that there's _two more_ sEnchanted Forest civilians here!"

David turns back to his wife. "It still doesn't explains enough. Dean not even from here," he says.

"Well, you know how I was a teacher in the curse?" she asks him. "How I didn't remember anything. Well, I still sorta had some sense of fighting. When Jefferson was attacking Emma and me, I channeled my Enchanted Forest strength without knowing. Since Dean claims that he _never_ shot a bow, maybe he's channeling a thing that he was known for in the Enchanted Forest."

"But I don't know anyone who used a bow," David says, confused.

"David, try to think about this. We didn't know _everybody_ in the Enchanted Forest. And I might think I know who he is," Mary Margaret says, cringing, as if bracing for a shitload of questions from her Emma and her father. Emma looks at her, wanting to ask her the questions but decides to keep her mouth shut.

"Who would he be?" David questions.

"Well, I've only heard of Robin Hood, I've never actually _seen_ him myself. Maybe Dean's Robin Hood or something," Mary Margaret suggests nervously.

"Robin Hood? Snow, Robin Hood was a thief, not a hunter," David says.

"Maybe the curse took him to that life of a hunter. For all we know, the demons and monsters come from the curse," Mary Margaret tries to explain.

"Then how come he's died? The curse makes people do the same thing ever day, he's only died like twice…well at least that's what he told me," Emma questions.

"I don't know!" Mary Margaret says quickly, seeming stressed with the possible information herself.

The doorbell rings, making everyone jump. Emma gives the door a sideways glance, waiting for Mary Margaret to answer it. Her mother reluctantly leaves her spot form the sink and towards the door, leaving Emma and David to their own thoughts. Emma just keeps watching her mother, her eyes narrowing. She watches her mother open the door and smile. Emma looks over her shoulder to see Marco—or Gipetto—giving her a wide grin and showing her a cardboard box.

"It's ready," he says, handing it to her. Mary Margaret takes it, a reluctant smile on her face.

"Oh, thank you, Marco. I'll make sure he gets them. I'm sure that they're perfect for him," she says confidently, grinning at the old man. "Thanks Marco."

Marco smiles at her in return, turning to leave. Mary Margaret closes the door as she turns, looking at both of their curious glances.

"Dean's armguard and gloves," she explains simply, setting the box down on the dining table. "He was supposed to train in archery today and they would've been ready today but you know what happened."

Emma lets out a breath, remembering him complain about his arm while they were walking out of Granny's. _Hurts like a bitch,_ he had said. She even saw the welt that the string had given him, seeing its pinkish-red tint that makes her flinch by simply looking at it. When Snow ordered her to put on her armguards, Emma started complaining, saying that she didn't need them and asking how the bow's string hitting her arm could hurt so much. Snow simply stayed silent and reinforced her demand.

"Now back to the conversation at hand, how could Dean even be a cursed person if he's not within or from the cursed area?" David asks.

"I don't know!" Mary Margaret says, her voice rising until it was close to yelling. "I already told you, I don't know—"

The doorknob twisting silences her and causes all of them to turn their heads towards the door, watching it swing open and waiting for the visitor to step in.

Henry trots in, his steps eager and excited while Dean walks in after, closing the door and shrugging off his leather jacket, exposing a plaid, button down shirt.

"I don't recall ever giving you the key to this apartment," David says cautiously, looking at Dean with narrowed eyes.

"I gave them to him," Emma says, giving Henry a welcoming hug as he sits on the stool to her left. Dean strolls over to the side of the table, leaning on it with a smug smile. Emma gives him a glare and at this, he only smiles wider.

"Why?" David asks.

Emma began to open her mouth to speak but Dean beat her to it. "Because even _I_ would like to know what you guys plan for me in the Enchanted Forest."

"He deserves to know," Emma adds, looking at her father.

David looks between the two, not seeming fond of the idea that Dean has the apartment key for some reason but he sighs, closing his eyes and looking towards Mary Margaret.

"Well, we better get to planning," he says, standing up from his chair. "I think we're gonna need some coffee."

As they move to the dining table, Dean, ever the curious one, grabs the box containing his armguard and glove. He looks at them. "What's this?"

"Oh," Mary Margaret says, almost as if she barely remembered them. "Those are your armguard and gloves, for the bow?"

He nods, smiling. "Would've been lovely if they'd have been ready yesterday. It would've saved my arm from this," he says, raising his left arm and showing them the pink mark on it, a fake smile plastered on his face. He opens it, the smile falling away for a split second before it's back, as fake as ever. He lets out a small laugh, lifting up a long piece of brown leather about as long as his forearm with a part on the top that wraps around his thumb. Emma groans, noticing the similarity of that armguard and another character with a bow and arrow. "Robin Hood armguard…how convenient," Dean says, hiding his nervousness quite well. The act is probably fooling Mary Margaret, David and Henry but the façade doesn't fool her for a second.

Henry looks at Dean curiously. "What do you mean? I thought you were Dean, not Robin Hood?" Henry says, tilting his head to the side suspiciously.

Dean's head snaps up to look at her son, his eyes widening unnoticeably and his expression alarmed.

"Oh, no, I'm not. I'm _not_ Robin Hood," he says, a bit pointedly, his gaze flickering to Mary Margaret for a split second. "I'm Dean; _just Dean._"

Henry nods, seeming satisfied with his answer and not bothering him about it. He turns his eager eyes to his mother. "Can we start planning now?"

Emma nods. "Yeah, kiddo, c'mon. We'll need a brain like yours."

* * *

After about an hour of being hunched over maps and arguing and talking until their throats were sore, they all sit up straight at the sound of the doorbell. Emma winces, the crick in her neck making itself known. Dean stretches beside her, cracking his back and neck. When no one makes a move to go answer it—most likely too withered out—, he sighs, standing up. "Don't worry, I'll get it," he says bluntly.

Emma watches him as he strolls over, unlocking the door and twisting the door handle until it's open and greeting the person at the doorway with a frown.

"Who are you?" Dean asks, Emma wondering the same thing since she can't see the person from where she sits.

"I think _I_ should be the one asking that question," _his_ voice says.

Emma groans, reluctantly standing up and moving towards the door. Then, she's standing in front of Neal. "Hey Neal," she greets lamely. She looks at Dean over her shoulder. "He's Henry's dad."

Neal greets her back, stepping over the threshold. Emma watches as Henry grins widely, excited as he jumps out of his seat and into his father's arms. Neal greets his son with a weak hug and a small smile, which Emma finds odd. As Neal's eyes turn to her, they seem almost predatory despite his soft and gentle appearance. A small tug in her gut tells her that something's not right. She shakes her head, ignoring it. It's just Neal. He left her with a child eleven months in jail, that's why she feels this way. His unsettling eyes turn to Dean. "I'm assuming you're good, since you're with Snow White and Prince Charming," he says, offering a hand to shake as Emma steps to the side, allowing the two men to meet. "Hi, I'm Neal."

Dean looks at the hand, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. He reluctantly shakes his hand, his eyes staring into Neal's. "I'm Dean."

Once they let go, Neal's eyes turn to Emma. "Well, you're looking nice today. You ready?"

Emma nods, then shakes her head. "I…I just need my boots."

She excuses herself, rushing to her room and taking her longest time putting her boots on. Once she's done, the butterflies in her stomach start to shoot at her insides with machine guns. She's _not_ looking forward to having lunch with Neal. As she walks back to the living room, she gives her parents a farewell hug and begins to walk back and turns towards Dean.

"C'mon, let's go," Neal says, rushing her. "Henry's getting hungry."

"I'm coming," Emma says, looking at him over her shoulder and back at Dean. She begins to wave a goodbye when he pulls her into a hug, his arms snaking around her waist and his face in the crook of her neck. She gasps inwardly at the unexpected hug, stiffening a bit until she finally just pats his back. But once he starts whispering words into her ear, she realizes that this is a message that needed to be delivered privately, not a sincere gesture.

"Don't trust him. Make sure that Henry is with Regina when you come back and invite him over for a drink," he whispers into her ear and pulling away, giving her a smile. Her stomach drops to the ground. Something _is_ wrong with Neal.

Emma nods. To anyone else watching it would've been just another farewell but to the two, it was acknowledgment.

"Bye Dean," she says, turning and leaving, the butterflies in her stomach raging with alarm now. They're not even butterflies anymore. They're more like wasps.

* * *

**Dean**

He watches as Emma leaves with the man, not even sure if he's a man. Something is wrong with that man. Not normal wrong, _supernatural_ wrong. Whenever he looks at him, chills go down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Dean stares at the door long after it closes and he stands there, frozen.

"Okay, let's get to the beach, Dean. You have to work on your sword-fighting skills," Charming says, beginning to walk toward the door.

"No," Dean says, finally turning to him. He needs to do one thing first. "I've gotta go visit my baby."

* * *

He watches as the door unlocks and the knob twists, the door swinging open to reveal Emma looking as uncomfortable as ever. Then he comes in, a wicked smile on his lips. Dean watches from behind the stairs as Charming and Snow duck behind the bed. They've turned the lights off and the afternoon light streaming in from the window doesn't provide much, so they're all pretty much unnoticeable.

"Where's everyone else?" "Neal" asks.

"Oh…they're not here," Emma says nervously. Dean would understand. All she knows is that she can't trust the father of her child. It must be pretty unnerving. But he can't think about that right now. He has to think about Neal stepping a little bit more inside the room. Like Emma, he hasn't moved from his spot.

"Really?" Neal says, his voice suggestive, taking a step towards Emma. Emma takes one back and he follows, not knowing that he's only two steps away from the trap. "Well, maybe we could do something else in the meantime?"

Emma glares at him and Dean could swear that he could see a shred of fear mixed in with the anger. "I only asked you to have a drink with me, _nothing_ else!"

Neal smirks, his eyes full of intention. "Are you sure, _Emma_?"

He takes a step closer and Emma takes two back. _Follow her. Follow her!_ Dean's mind screams.

Finally, Neal steps forward and into the trap and his mischievous expression drops, the demon sensing its trap. It looks up and scowls. The Devil's Trap that Charming and he drew is there, the bright red making it obvious. It looks at Emma, curious and she does the smart thing, stepping back as she looks at the circle with designs on it.

"You son of a—"

"I prefer you _not_ call my daughter that," Charming says, emerging from his hiding space at the bed, Snow standing up along with him.

It turns to them, his scowl deepening and then it freezes, a smile slowly dawning on its face.

"You people would not have thought of this by yourselves," it says. "I just knew Dean Winchester wouldn't leave this alone." Then it looks at him in his spot behind the stairs. "You can come out, Dean. I know where you are now."

Dean smirks, stepping out of under the stairs. He looks at the demon, putting his hands in his pocket.

"So, I guess you've heard of me," Dean says sarcastically.

"You have quite a reputation from where I come from," it says, turning to him. Dean could see Snow, Charming and Emma watch the exchange between the two curiously. He could only imagine what's going through their minds but he has to deal with this right now.

"Yeah, I was hoping that you would go back there, by the way," Dean retorts, giving it a fake grin.

It scoffs, smiling. "Like hell I will. I have to finish something here. I didn't come for no reason."

"Why _did_ you come here?" Charming demands from the sideline.

It turns to him, smiling. Its eyes turn pitch black and Snow and Emma cringe back while Charming frowns. "And why would _Prince Charming_," it breathes exasperatedly, "want to know."

"Because you're in my town and you were thinking about having sex with my daughter!" he says sternly. Dean smirks. He's gotta admit, the guy's got guts but he's extremely lucky that this demon is inside the Devil's Trap. Emma looks at her father, her brows furrowed and biting her lip. Dean could tell that she's biting back a scolding.

The demon smirks, tapping his fingers together. "Ah, loosen up. I could've done worse."

The punch was unexpected, not even Dean saw it coming but it did, and it's on the floor, blood seeping from his nose and a cut on his lip. It touches it, pulling his finger back and seeing the blood on it. It grins at Charming, shaking his head.

"Is that all you've got, prince?" it mocks, chuckling roughly. "It's gonna take a lot more than a beating to get answers out of me."

"Oh, we'll see," Charming threatens, coming forward and raising his fist again.

Dean intercepts this time. "Charming, Charming. Trust me, I wanna see this guy get beat the crap out of just as much as you but, we don't have a person on our hands. We've got a demon. And the way to get answers out of them is much more different."

Dean takes out his bottle of holy water and the demon knife. He tosses the bottle to Charming. "If this doesn't get him talking, maybe this will." He lifts the knife for emphasis.

"Alright," Charming says, unscrewing the top of the bottle. He looks at its content and frowns, looking at Dean. "What is this?"

"Holy water," he answers. He smirks at Charming and Snow's questioning glance. He opens his mouth to say something but Emma beats him to it, surprisingly.

"Holy water is like acid to a demon. It hurts it but not the host," she says. Everyone turns to her, surprised. "Henry told me."

Dean smiles. That boy would be a pretty good hunter. He almost reminds him of Sam when he was little. _Sam._ Dean's smile fades when his thoughts turn to his little brother.

"Well then, shall we get started?" Dean asks, twirling the knife in his hand and shaking the thoughts of his little brother out of his head to the task at hand. He turns to the demon. "What are you doing here?"

It sneers. "I'm here because of the history of the town and the beautiful nature that surrounds the lovely town."

Dean looks at Charming and nods. Charming looks between the bottle and the demon, shrugging and just splashing the water at it. The demon actually attempts to jump back, its grin fading and the water is on him. The sound of sizzling water is mixed with the pained cries of the demon as it claws at it and fall to its knees. He could see Emma take a step back from the scene, her hand going to her mouth. Snow stands beside her, wrapping an arm around her daughter.

"Now would you like to tell us?" Dean asks.

It looks up, it's expression pained but it manages to give him a manic grin. "Fuck you."

Charming splashes some more holy water and gets it at its face. The steam comes off of it, the cries not even making him flinch.

"How about now?" Charming asks.

"Willing to tell us?" Dean asks.

It looks up at him, a wide grin on his face. "Go to hell."

"Been there, done that. I guess I didn't settle well with it, then—bam!—I'm back here," Dean says.

"So I've heard," it says, tilting his head to the side.

"Now, you betters answer the question this time," Dean says. "Or you'll have a little chat with this little guy," he waves the knife in front of it. Dean feels satisfaction when he sees the demon's eyes widen but then turn back to their usual playful smirk.

"Kiss my ass," it says.

Dean looks at Charming and he shrugs. Dean turns back to the demon and prepares to give it a long, painful cut.

"Wait!" Emma says, catching Dean's attention when she steps forward, grabbing his arm. "Wait." Dean looks at her expectantly. Of course she wouldn't let him do this. He is her former (maybe current, who knew) lover and she won't just let him cut him up. "Alright, it's clear that he won't answer. Why don't you exercise it?" Dean raises a brow. "You told Henry a _lot_ of things and he's not one for keeping the information inside."

Dean smiles. "Smart kid."

He looks back at it and it still smirks, no sense of fear. If he does exercise it, it would most likely come again, probably with a couple of friends. The only way to ensure death of the demon is with the knife but he can't kill it without killing the person also. He turns to Emma.

"What's the real reason?"

Emma swallows, already knowing that she's going to have to give him an answer. "Henry needs a dad."

That strikes a chord in Dean…a strong one. Before he can process it, the knife is on the ground, clattering until it stops and his jaw is clenched tightly. The pain of his dad's death comes to him all over again, the pain and guilt rolling into him in painful waves, so strong that he's surprised that he's still standing up straight. He silently goes to the table, grabbing the bible he had and the crucifix, clearing his throat.

The demon's grin fades. "What are you going?"

Dean spares it a glance, looking back at the text and beginning to murmur the Latin words. As he gets passed the first verse, he sees the demon scowl in pain and begin to breathe hard. Its labored breathing increases when Dean gets passed the others. When he's almost halfway done, he cries out, approaching Dean from within the circle.

"No, don't do this! Don't!" it yells.

Dean continues, seeing Emma's pained expression at the pain that it's going through. He could see her bite her lower lip and clench her fist. It turns to Emma, looking at her.

"Emma, tell him not to do this. _Tell him!_" it says. Dean slows down but then regains his speed. _Damn bastard,_ he thinks. _Using his body to tell his ex-girlfriend what to do._ He continues, almost finishing it.

"Alright, alright!" it screams. "I was supposed to kill her!"

Dean stops altogether, looking up at it. "What?"

It turns to Dean. "I was sent here to kill her," it says, gesturing to Emma. "She's going to give birth to a God's vessel and I was sent here to kill her."

Dean's blood heats up, slowly beginning to boil.

"You were going to kill her?!" Charming shouts, enraged.

"And you thought that you could get away with it?" Snow asks, her voice low and calm but dangerous. It was unsettling how scary this petite woman could get.

It rolls its eyes. "Of course I did. I just didn't plan on meeting Dean Winchester."

"Wait, they don't know that I'm here?" he asks, lowering the bible just the slightest bit. If they don't know, it should stay that way. Maybe he should just kill him and get it over with, save the town the danger.

"Oh, they know. I just didn't think that you would be here. According to Neal's memory, you were supposed to be training," it says, tapping his head.

Snow looks at Charming and then at Dean. "Neal must've misunderstood."

"Wait, back up. I'm going to give birth to _what?_" Emma asks.

Dean looks at her. Charming also does and he seems to barely realize what the demon said. He turns to it. "What?!"

"She…she's going to give birth to a baby who is going to be His vessel," Dean says slowly, looking at them.

They still didn't seem to understand. Dean ignores the, murmuring the exorcism chant again and rushing it. The demon cries out and throws its head back, the black smoke suddenly coming out of its mouth. Neal's body is still and rigid while the demon comes out. When the smoke finally leaves his body and storms out of the door that was still open, he falls to the floor, unconscious.

It stays quiet until he coughs violently, beginning to sit up. "What…what…" he looks around, confused.

"What the hell was that?" Snow breathes.

Dean sighs, lowering the bible and the crucifix. He's got a lot of explaining to do.

"_You_ just witnessed an exorcism," Dean says, closing the bible and tucking the crucifix away. He looks up.

"I think you may want to keep that there for safety reasons. If it came once, it's going to come back," He looks at Emma. "Make sure you make a circle of salt around your bed to ward off any demons and you two"—Dean throws the charms that Bobby gave him and Sam—"wear these so they won't possess you and make you kill her."

Emma looks at him, her brows furrowed. "What do they mean that I'm going to give birth to a vessel? I already have a kid. Do they want Henry?"

Dean shakes his head. "It's not what they want. It's what they don't want. And what they don't want is you having a kid so they'll do that by getting rid of you."

Emma frowns, her expression horrified. She turns to Neal. "So they can get to anybody?"

Dean nods, looking down at Neal also. "Yep."

Neal looks at all of them, beginning to panic. "What are you talking about? Who wants to kill you?"

"You did, about five minutes ago," Dean says.

"It's not his fault," Snow says, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. He shrugs it off.

"Whatever. They'll try anything to get what they want. I know that you guys don't have the best relationship with Regina but I recommend that you either let him stay with her, because demons will be all over you guys for a while, and make him sleep on a bed inside a circle of salt. Carry around holy water with you and if you suspect that anybody is a demon, say Cristo," he says, looking at all of them.

"Demons? Salt circles? Holy water? What the hell did I miss?" Neal says from the ground.

"A lot," Dean says, offering him a hand to help him up. Neal takes it and he pulls him up. "A lot," he repeats.

When they tell him the story, Neal looks at all of them. "So this guy, Mr. Crow—who was in the hospital a couple weeks ago—is a hunter of demons and supernatural shit and tonight I was possessed by a demon and you guys just performed an exorcism?"

They all stay silent for a second. "Yeah, that's pretty much it," Dean says. "But, don't call me Mr. Crow. I'm just Dean."

Neal narrows his eyes at him. "You look familiar."

"I was on the news a couple of times. No need to worry," Dean says. He already told Charming and Emma how he was framed for murder and some cases they were _true_ but when he told the story, they soon cooled down and accepted it.

"Well, I'm just glad that you guys went along with this whole demon stuff. I would've been dead if you didn't," Emma says, looking at her parents.

"Oh, they didn't," Dean says. "When they saw the arsenal that I had in the Impala, Charming almost arrested me."

"Really?" Emma asks.

"Really," Dean replies, the memory fresh in his mind.

* * *

"_Again, I ask, what are we going here? You have to train," Snow, who has decided to join Charming and Dean to go to the Impala, asks._

"_Not until I'm done with this," he says, walking into Leroy's auto shop._

"_What exactly is 'this' then?" Charming asks._

_Dean spins on his heel, turning to the two. "You may have a demon in your little town. As a hunter it's my job to take care of it. Right now, Emma and Henry might be in danger, do you really want to risk their lives because of your doubt in me?"_

_Snow's mouth parts slightly as Charming's eyes widen. "A…demon?"_

_Dean nods. "Yes. They could possess a body and walk among you without you even realizing it but Neal over there gave me the jitters and there's something wrong with him. Now you could either help me or argue with me."_

_The fairytale couple in front of him stay quiet, almost like deciding this. Dean groans, turning around. They can't think about it and waste sweet, precious time while Emma and Henry are most likely hanging out with a demon._

_A hand on his shoulder makes him spin back around, his eyes glaring at Charming. He stays quiet for a while, almost like he's swallowing his pride and he lets __out a breath._

"_Tell us what to do," he says._

_Dean smiles. "Well, come with me."_

_He passes Leroy as he works on another car. "Hey Grumpy," Dean greets, smiling. He's wanted to call a lot of people that for so long without offending them. He's not going to waste his chance now._

_Grumpy looks up from his work. "Hey Dean."_

_Once they pass him, Snow looks at him. "I assume that you come here often."_

_Dean smiles, finally seeing his car that he's been working on since he doesn't let the workers touch her. "I don't let just anyone touch her," he says, running a finger down her new hood, which still needs to be painted._

_He goes to the trunk and opens it._

"_If you wanted to get something, wouldn't they have taken everything out?" Charming asks._

_Dean looks at him, grabbing the edge of the floor of the empty trunk. "Do you really think that I'm as stupid as to leave all my weapons lying around in the trunk, out in the open?"_

_Dean lifts it up and hears the stifled gasps of the king and the queen. He smiles, looking through the weapons to find the bottles of holy water that he has. Maybe he should bring the demon knife too. It might be handy._

"_Dean…what the hell?" Snow White says, looking at the stretch of weapons._

"_I know. Dean, half of this stuff is banned from Storybrooke," Charming says. He lifts up a particularly dangerous weapon and looks at Dean. "I think you need a license for this."_

"_Don't get your panties in a twist, Charming. I use this to kill what's out there, remember?" Dean asks. That shut them right up._

_As he takes out two bottles of holy water, the bible he has and the crucifix, Charming reaches to touch a samurai sword. "How the hell could you use a samurai sword but not a knight's sword?"_

"_Hey, I just had to stab the bitch, not learn techniques with it," he says._

_He grabs the demon knife and two bottles of spray paint, closing the arsenal. "Alright, that's it. Let's go. Now, Snow, you don't mind having a Devil's Trap on your ceiling, right?"_

"_A what?" she asks._

* * *

He chuckles at the memory. He felt awesome knowing things that Snow White and Prince Charming didn't and he's going to savor that feeling because he's going to need to learn how to kill the creatures that they know sometime soon. He might as well show them what he could do before they begin to think him a fool.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey pretties. I'm...sincerely sorry that I haven't updated in a while and well...school started and I have an AP class. I haven't had any time. I didn't even get to write a new chapter for Walking on Coals! Well, yep, that's my excuse. And I'm about to do something that I've been wanting to do for a long time. I'm going to...respond to some of your comments!**

**Grace(guest): Yeah, I know. I'm sorry but, eh, what can you do? And by the way, thanks. I know what you call me isn't exactly a positive thing but I'm pretty sure that you're joking...right? Well anyways. it's comments like you that make me smile and realize that there are people out there that are honest enough to speak their mind. Thanks. You're a great motivator.**

**xxxJusta1991xxx: So...I see you're a Captain Swan fan... SO am I! I swear, if they make absolutely _nothing_ between the two, I will be _very_ disappointed. And, also, I want to say that _you,_ my friend, are the biggest motivator of all. Thank you, Justa.**

**wailsofangels: Ah, really? You're so sweet! Thanks, man. That really means a lot.**

**Tipsu: Thanks so much! I like you made a professional review of it and your choice of words. Very intellectual. Thanks!**

**Yin7: Thanks.**

**Kensi: Really? I couldn't make you stop? Oh, that means a lot to me. Here's a new chapter, hope you enjoy.**

**Anna: Well, here you are. And, hopefully you aren't those girls who freak out about spoilers but...come closer...journey to the Enchanted Forest is two chapters from now..**

**xMusicxHobox: No, my friend, _you're_ the awesome one.**

**Britt: _Hell_ to the yes!**

**Guest: well, here you are.**

* * *

**Sam**

"'Morning, old chap," a familiar voice greets, waking Sam from his slumber. The sunlight that streams in from the small window blinds Sam, making him wince and close his eyes, trying to save his sight. He's lost his freedom, his brother, the smell of the cell is so vile that it killed off his nose cells and the food that Cora serves him has practically no taste so he's lost his taste buds sometime over the few weeks. He'll be damned if he loses his sight or hearing.

"Tove? What are you doing here?" Sam asks, looking up and seeing him stand directly between the Snap-Dragons. It's annoying how they don't even look at him, indicating that the Tove doesn't even have a thought about helping Sam.

"Well you don't seem happy to talk to an old friend," the Tove says, flicking his tail.

"No, it's not that. It's just that it's a surprise. I haven't talked to anyone in days, other than cursing at Cora," he tells the Tove, leaning against the window. The Snap-Dragons pay close attention to him, their noses flaring and eyes slitting.

"Well, who doesn't want that wretched witch dead? Honestly, she has no heart, _literally!_ She keeps her heart in that damned Jabberwocky, bringing it back to life. I thought that when Alice killed that beast we were done with it. Oh well. We'll just have to wait for Frabtious day to come once again," he says, making Sam's eyebrow quirk up.

"She existed?" Sam asks.

"Of course she did, you fool," the Tove says. Sam brushes off the insult, knowing that—even though the Tove isn't the _nicest_ company—he means well. "If she didn't this place would be in ruins. Probably leave all the rubble to the Momeraths."

"Momeraths? Why does that sound familiar?" Sam whispers to himself.

The Tove looks at him, his head tilting. "Who in their right mind doesn't know of the Momeraths?"

"Who in their right mind talks to a talking animal?" Sam retorts.

"There you go with the no-talking animal nonsense again!" the Tove says. "Really, I thought you were over that."

"I've only talked to you twice. It's gonna need to be a bit more than two encounters to get used to talking animals," Sam tells him, leaning away from the window.

"I am flesh and blood. I'm here before your very eyes. How could you not still understand that?"

"How could you not understand that I don't understand?"

"Well, it's not that I don't understand, it's that if you escape, and I know that you will, you'll have to understand that in this world animals that talk is usually a norm around here. Ugh, I can only imagine how dull your realm is."

"Well it makes more sense."

"Oh, what do you know of sense. When you're in a realm that isn't your own, your sense of logic is no longer valid," Tove says, brushing his paws over his coat. "Anyways, back onto the subject, Alice left some centuries ago. She hasn't come back. Then that Jabberwocky practically came back from the dead, burning everything in its sight with a vengeance but she simply hasn't had enough. She wants vengeance for her life; she wishes to avenge herself. She's been crossing worlds this way and that searching for her, even trying to sniff out her bloodline. Anyone with her blood coursing through their veins would never be safe. But she's stopped decades ago, until she abducted you. Probably struck a deal with the Queen of Hearts. Damned woman!"

"So, is the Queen of Hearts really as bad as stories say she is?" he questions, curious.

"Well, you should know. You've met the blasted woman," Tove says, his tail flicking irritably. His beady eyes look at Sam and then they look at something behind him. The Toves eyes widen and he backs away. "I'll have to speak with you later, Sam." Then he scampers off, kicking off dirt as he runs away on all fours, dashing between two ten foot tall blades of grass.

Sam stiffens, feeling _it_.

_What the hell? It's not even the third day! She came yesterday,_ he thinks as he turns around.

"My, my Sam. Making _friends,_ aren't you?" Cora asks, the door closing and leaving the two alone in the cell.

"What do you want? You came yesterday," Sam points out, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Well, I wanted to check up on my favorite prisoner, is that so wrong?" she asks, stepping passed him and up to the window, the Snap- Dragons greeting her with warm purrs while she looks into the distance. _Shit, she saw Tove._ "So, you've been speaking with a Tove, haven't you?"

Sam stiffens, his heart skipping a beat. He's only known the Tove for a couple weeks but he doesn't want Cora anywhere near him. He's the only friend Sam has had for the moment—probably the only friend that he's had in a while—and he's not gonna let him get wasted because Cora didn't want Sam having any ties to the outside world. But he knows that she already caught him. What's the point of trying to get a pitiful lie passed her?

Sam swallows before answering. "Yes," he grits out, his eyes on the floor.

"Hm, of course. Irritating creatures, they are," she says, stepping away from the window. Sam's heart deflates, relief filling his being. She didn't seem interested in Tove, thank God. "And how's the chest. Your arm and leg is fixed up."

Sam takes a deep breath, the stinging and other little pains gone now. He's almost completely healed, the only indication of damage are the scabs and scars.

"Fine," he says.

"Well, good news. Don't think that now that you're healed you can escape, though. If you try, you will be severely punished," Cora says, a calm smile on her face as she steps toward the door. "Farewell, Sam Winchester. I shall see you again in three more days."

Then she's gone, the door swinging closed before her. Sam stares at it, his gaze lingering on the door. No torture, no punishment, no forced starvation, no nothing! What is he supposed to _do_?! In almost every single time that he's used as bait he's tortured or tied up to a chair. But with Cora, there's nothing. No pain, no limitations when it come to the movement of his body. It's _aggravating_. He would be able to escape right now, _at this very moment_ if he wasn't trapped in Wonderland, of all places. He's only tried once, he remembers walking down the hall and then turning to see guards. When he was in the middle of running, he blacked out and then there was nothing. When he woke up, he was sore but there wasn't any indication of injury over his skin yet it wasn't until Tove came to him a second time and asked him why he hadn't been there for days. But even as he knew that he wasn't whipped or something, a pit in the bottom of his stomach grew and he knows that Cora has made him do something. Something that he wouldn't like to find out. A shiver runs down his body. Even wondering about what Cora did to him gives him the chills.

"Well," Sam jumps at the sound of the voice, turning and realizing that it's Tove. "Now that that wretched witch is gone, how about we talk about your brother, hm? He must be an interesting fellow if the Queen wants him."

Sam chuckles. "Huh, he's a jerk. I really don't know why she wants him."

The Tove tilts his head, observing him. "He can't be that one thing if the Queen wants him. There's more, isn't there?"

Sam lowers his head, shaking it. "Well…back in our…_realm,_" the word crosses his lips hesitantly, not quite believing it himself, "we save people, hunt _things_. Things that harm people."

The Tove leans forward, his beady eyes filled with interest. "What kinds of _things_?"

Sam moves to his mattress. "Well, magical creatures. Our realm is usually crawling with them. But humans don't see them…or believe in them. Whenever one of those magical creatures cause problems, we get rid of them."

"Problems such as…" the Tove trails off, waiting for Sam to fill in the blank.

Sam sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. "Disappearances or…death."

The Tove looks at Sam curiously. "I wouldn't expect a mellow man like you with such a hobby."

Sam chuckles. He's been malnourished the passed weeks and he would be skin and bones if it wasn't for his lightly built figure underneath the rags he's wearing but he still has that withering look and the stubble in his face is close to being considered a beard. "Yeah, who would've known."

"So, what's your brother's name?" the Tove asks curiously.

Sam turns to him, looking at him as he sits directly in front of the iron bars of the window, almost within touching distance.

"Dean," Sam replies, looking back at the wall in front of him.

"Is he your big brother?"

Sam nods. "Yeah, he's my big brother."

"Is there any reason that the Queen would _want_ him?"

Sam shrugs. "I don't _know_. That's what I've been trying to figure out these passed few weeks but I just couldn't figure it out," he responds, racking his brain to find a reason why the damn Queen of Hearts would want Dean? Just when he starts to wonder who the Queen of Heart is, he remember Tove telling him something. "You said that I've met the Queen of Hearts. What did you mean by that?"

The Tove looks at him, his front paws resting on the ground as he leans on them. "I meant that you've met her."

Sam shakes his head. "But I've seen you and a couple of guards…and that bitch Cora…"

Sam trails off, the dots connecting in his mind.

"They're one and the same, old chap." Sam grunts, his head suddenly feeling inflated. He staggers back, holding it. "What? Sam, are you alright?" Tove asks, taking a step closer and leaning on his left paw. "What's wrong?"

Sam begins to tilt, his own legs beginning to lose enough strength to support him. _What's going on?_ He wonders in the suddenly full and scrambling thoughts in his mind. He feels like his brain has been overfilled, like a cup with overflowing water, like a balloon close to popping. His shoulder finds the wall and he slides down, his bottom hitting the mattress in a hard thump but the overfilling feeling in his brain isn't giving him much space to care.

"_Sam…Sam…"_

Tove's voice begins to fade away as Sam does. The edges of his vision begin to blur as his eyes drift closed. A dull blue color suddenly streaks across the darkness of his closed eyes and the brightness of white and dull gray and sunlight fade into the darkness along with the blue and browns and a wide array of colors begins to form shapes and paint a picture.

_Oh no. Don't tell me that it's a…_

It was too late. The vision already sucked him in.

* * *

_**Alice (1658)**_

_She scurries down the hallway, passing the old clock on the wall, the pendulum swinging in time with the ticking as it mocks her in her tardiness. She breathes heavily as she rushes, she grabs her beige coat and makes haste of putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. She pushes her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose as she tidies the files in her hands and aligns the books under them. She shrugs her coat on and buttons up an extra white button on her blue vest. _

_She spares herself a glance in the mirror; her blond locks are tied back with one straying across her forehead and obscuring her left eye, blond across blue. She tucks it back behind her ear, wondering how the day would go and if the partners she was going to work with would treat her like the rest. _Damn men,_ she thinks bitterly. Very little women worked in her line of work. Most of them are men and, because of her gender, they have no respect for her whatsoever. So she preferred to work alone with the occasional case with Justin. It saves her the arguments and keeps her from distractions. The only man that respected her was Justin but that's only because he's joined her along her journey to becoming what she is today._

_She withdraws from her thoughts, turning the knob of the door and stepping into the fresh, London air. She smiles, closing her eyes and breathing it in. Memories of her teasing her sister Lorina and playing with Dinah flood her mind, remembering her times with her uncle._

_She opens her eyes as she walks forward, passes pedestrians, dodges carriages, and delivery boys sending bread to their bakeries._

_She reaches the other side of the street, and stands there, trying to remember the bar that she's supposed to meet up with the rest of her partners. The walk is about three blocks and she should begin walking right now so that she could make it._

Partners. You're going to have _partners,_ _she thinks. _This is going to go wrong somehow.

_The last partner that she had only seemed to find her useful when he was hungry and needed to get his house cleaned. He even tried to get laid once. She had had the last straw when she refused to make him a meal and he called her a good for nothing whore. He ended up at the hospital the day after but it didn't make her feel any better. It was simply too bizarre for men to see a woman on the same level as them, doing their job and wearing their clothes. It was stupid, all of it._

But Justin said that they knew about me, so if they already accepted me to work with, maybe—just maybe—they'd give me at least _some_ respect_, she thinks._

_She walks with renewed vigor, her coat flapping as a gust of wind blows strands of stray hairs back. She watches as a boy runs in her direction backwards, his footsteps jerky and un-coordinated. She moves out of the way and, right when he passes her, he falls and he gives out a cry, calling the attention of his mother. Alice smiles, wondering if she'll ever be that woman in that position. Be a mother, have a family, a loving husband who will love her the way she is and not be those dim-witted assholes._

_She shakes her head, scowling at her train of thought. _I can't have those thoughts in my head. That's not possible when I know what's out there. I'll have to be saving people, not caring for children. I don't have time for any of that.

_She finally passes the second block, the bar in her sights. It's about thirty or more paces away and the bubbling in her stomach has increased by several hundred percents. She bites her lower lip, taking hesitant steps and finally approaching the front door of the bar._

_Once she stands in front of it she reaches a hand out, the bubbling now turning to boiling inside of her. She sucks in a breath when the doorknob clicks as she opens it. The smell of sour beer and spirits greets her nostrils and she smiles, breathing it in. When she's not working at the library, this is her favorite spot to spend the day in. She could drink two full bottles of vodka and barely walk crooked when she walks back home and still be aware of everything around her. She's learned to do that over the years with men trying to get her to sleep with them by giving her free drinks. She got lucky the first time, the next times, by the end of the first bottle, they would end up with their head in the toilet._

_She walks in, earning a couple of stares from wet-lipped drunks with dried, crusty beer on their beards and stubble. A movement catches her eye and she looks over to see a nervous Justin leaning on a pool table with three other men. Alice smiles at him and her gaze turns to the other men. A pair of them are identical twins with dark, short-trimmed hair and the other was a burly ginger that was about the size of a wardrobe, he made her seem miniscule standing next to him. Her smile wavers when their glances widen and turn into confused stares. She ignores it, brushing her doubts away because Justin got her this job. Justin would never lie. He was her best friend—her only friend actually—and he knows the consequences of lying to her._

_She walks up to the table, dropping the books and files on it with a dull 'thud' as she pushes the glasses higher up on her nose and looks up Justin._

"_So, when do we start?" she asks._

_Justin looks at her nervously, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. "Listen…I've gotta tell you something…"_

_Alice looks up at him, the bubbling in her stomach increasing. "What?"_

_Alice's stomach drops and she automatically turns to the rest of the group standing around the pool table. Her thoughts are confirmed when she sees the confused gazes of the other men and her blood runs cold, betrayal over-running her thoughts. _No…he didn't,_ she begins to think before the chill of her blood is replaced with boiling fury. She turns to Justin and immediately takes a swing at him, her fist colliding with his cheek, sure to leave a bruise and a small loss of memory judging by the way he falls over, his head hitting the edge of a table behind him._

"_You fucking liar!" she hisses, ready to pounce at him again. A strong arm wraps around her waist and holds her back, making her kick and claw at it with rage as she glares daggers at Justin while he stands back up and the two clones take her spot and stand before him, attacking him with questions._

"_What the hell were you thinking, Justin?" one asks._

"_Were you really thinking of getting a _woman_ involved with all this? What use would she be?" the other asks._

_Alice glares at them, their comments only making her even angrier. She kicks at the shin behind her, if it hurt the man holding her back even a little, he wasn't showing it._

"_Whoa, whoa! Calm down, lass. She's feisty, I'll give her that," a gruff, Irish-accented voice says behind her, who she could only assume is the man._

_Justin spares the man a glance and sends Alice an apologetic one. Alice gives one last kick before giving up, letting the man hold her back. "You said that they knew," Alice says breathily, her fists clenched tightly._

"_They knew your name was Alice so, technically, I wasn't lying," he says in a petty way._

"_You said that Alice was short for Alisdair," the man behind her says, releasing her._

_Alice steps away from the man, from the twins, from all of them. Her gaze turns to Justin and her rage flares. She takes a threatening step forward and he cringes back, the twins don't flinch, obviously not finding her a threat._

"_Justin, are you really cowering back from a woman?" one of them asks incredulously._

"_I wasn't lying when I said that she mastered kendo and a wide array of weaponry," Justin tells them._

"_You can't place a man's job in a woman's hands," the Irish man behind her says._

_Alice snaps her head at him, glowering. _They're idiots,_ she thinks to herself. _All of them. They're _fucking assholes. _Their damn pride won't even let me help them.

_She begins to gather her books and files, turning on her heel and walking away._

"_Wait, where are you going?" Justin asks behind her, the sound of his footsteps approaching her._

_She turns her head back to glare at him. "I'm leaving, knowing full-well what creature you are dealing with how to kill it. I will do this case_ myself_, without _you_."_

_She was lying straight through her teeth but they didn't need to know. It's not like she'd be seeing any of them anyways. As she approaches the door, a man blocks her way, __his breath tinged with spirits and wine._

"_Hello, little lady. What's a damsel like you doin—" he didn't even finish. Her fist had already collided with his nose with a satisfying crunch and she dropped her books to send the man flying over her shoulder and tumbling to the ground, unconscious._

_She doesn't look back when she gathers her books again and leaves the establishment, bubbling with anger. She doesn't care if she doesn't know what to do or how to kill this thing but she _will_ do it without any help from _them.

* * *

**Sam**

He sits up in the mattress gasping for breath, sucking in huge amounts but none of the amounts of air that he's receiving is enough. He needs more.

He runs a hand through his hair, coughing and sucking in more breaths, horrified by the vision that struck him.

_What the hell was that?! I thought I was over having the visions?!_ His mind screams as he tries to keep his heart rate under control and try to hear everything that his throbbing heart isn't allowing him to.

As he slowly regains his breath and his racing blood and throbbing of his heart slow down, he lets out a breath, panting. He feels his forehead to find a thin sheet of cold sweat on it and soaking his hair. Suddenly, he can hear again.

"Sam?! Sam!"

Sam jumps at the voice, turning to see Tove there, not looking like he changed position at all.

"T-t…t-t-t-t-t-t…T-tove!" Sam stutters, his voice hoarse and weak, his throat burning.

"What the bloody hell just happened? I could have sworn you died! You were normal and then, like a light, you went out," the Tove says. "Well, a dimming light and _then_ you went out."

Sam looks up at him, his breaths long and labored. He scared the hell out of Tove and he was a normal Wonderland native. So that crosses out any possibility that it's a Wonderland thing.

"Sam. What _happened_?" Tove repeats, his tone more demanding.

Sam takes a deep breath, letting it out through his nose as he tries to calm down. "I…I don't know. I…I think that I just had…a vision…"

Tove tilts his head to the side curiously. "Vision?"

Sam nods, looking at the dirty, crusty wall ahead of him. "Yeah. It just…sucked me in. I couldn't control it. It was…too powerful."

"A vision? Was powerful?" Tove asks in an incredulous tone.

Sam nods, looking at him only to see the Tove with an unbelieving mask on his face. "You know what…never mind. How long was I out?"

"What do you mean how long were you out? You were only out for half a second and then you woke up gasping and panting like you'd seen a Bandersnatch."

Sam looks at him, incredulous. "What?"

"Oh, I said it once. I really don't wish to say it again."

Sam looks down at the floor, the rags that cover his legs that are riddled with holes lay over it, making his attention turn to the loose weaving of the rags.

"Sam…" Sam looks up to see the Tove, an expression of concern on his face. "Are you alright?"

Sam looks back at the loose weaving and back up at him, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just…change the subject."

But he knows that while they're having the upcoming conversation his thoughts will be on his vision. Was that girl possibly Alice? _The_ Alice from Alice in Wonderland? But Alice was a little girl, not an adult. And what was up with the whole hunter thing? Was she one of them? Was this happening right now? Usually his premonitions are something that happen in the future or are happening currently. _No, they can't. There weren't any cars or anything and those guys seemed _way_ too casually sexist for them to be jerks. It looked like it was in the eighteen or seventeen hundreds._

He sighs. The vision didn't seem finished. It just seemed like a peek. Whatever they are, whatever they mean, they're not done.

* * *

**Emma**

She can't help but peek over at Dean's shooting. He's only been wielding a bow for two weeks and already, he's in the woods, shooting sticky notes—_sticky notes! _—from an unreasonable distance. Emma doesn't know how he does it but he does. One time she even asked him and he just answered with an '_I don't know._'

It's been a week since the demon incident and Emma has been on edge those last seven days. She called every night to make sure Regina circled Henry's bed with salt and kept a close eye on people's actions, making sure that they did something that wasn't themselves.

"Emma."

David's voice draws her back to the task at hand. He waves his sword—his _real_ sword—around to get her attention and she nods, focusing on the training. She's been training for the last three sessions with an _actual_ sword because David finally deemed her worthy enough to try them and train her in a "realistic" scenario. She and David put on some light armor that Gold had stashed in the basement of his pawn shop—God knows what made him let them have it—and her arms are protected, along with her abdomen and she wears a metal skirt to protect her thighs if something goes wrong.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," she tells him dryly, renewing her grasp on her sword.

"Well, in an actual battle, don't get too distracted. That distraction may cost your life. Try to remember that when it's a battle, it's not training so the person you're up against won't wait for you to bring your attention back to 'em; they'll take advantage of that moment."

She sighs. "Okay, okay. I'll…try to pay attention but…" her gaze wanders to Dean, who nails a post it that it five trees away about fifteen feet up. "What if it's true?"

David follows her gaze to Dean, watching him notch another arrow and nail a post it on a tree that's even farther. He bites his lip, looking back at the ground and then at her. He shrugs. "If it is then…I really don't know what I'd do."

Emma looks at Dean again and then back, trying not to get too distracted. David stopped teaching her maneuvers once she got them all down. Now they were just plain-out train-battling. David starts off with a swing to her head, which she ducks and counters with a strike to his side. He barely deflects it, almost knocking the sword out of her grasp and then making a quick slash at her mid-section, the blade scraping against her armor.

"Dead," he says simply, trying to point out where she'd be if this was a real battle.

She gives him a glare, remembering her first time getting hit on the side with an actual sword when she had the armor on. She freaked out and almost had a panic attack, just expecting to bleed out when she remembered that she had armor on and that she wasn't going to bleed to death.

She strikes at him again, him deflecting it but her blade sliding down the length of his and managing to nick at his knuckle and scrape again the armor on his forearm. She sucks in a breath, guilt settling into her stomach.

"Sorry," she manages to say.

He shakes his head. "Focus."

He swing at her, almost hitting her side when she spun out of the way and powered up her blow with that spin. She hits his side and she smirks at him.

"Dead," she says, matching his own tone when he says that word.

When they get at it again, he suddenly decides to add his own fancy moves, ducking and rolling and kicking her feet from under her until she's had it. This time, when he tried to kick her feet from under her, she jumps up, his leg missing hers and kicks his chest, knocking him back. When he lands on his back and she holds her sword at his neck, he smiles at her, pride in every single feature on his face. She smiles. Most parents are proud of their kids metal in soccer or straight A's on their report card, hers are proud of her beating them at a sword match.

"Good job. Let's try that again and don't be afraid to do that again. You're gonna need your fists and feet as much as your sword when you fight," he tells her as she extends her hand, offering to help him up.

"Thanks," she says, hefting him up.

When they get at it again this time, she mimics some of the ducking and rolling maneuvers that he did and even though he didn't teach her how to do it, she managed to do it without flaw. She smiles. Would this have been how she would've been if the curse hadn't hit the Enchanted Forest. Training sword-fighting with her dad? Or would she be a delicate princess not allowed to leave her tower?

She shakes the thoughts away when he almost manages to hit her side with the blade, knowing that they will distract her too much for her own good.

She can't explain it now but when she gets into the fights, into the training, the sound of scraping metal and clashing blades calms her somehow. She doesn't know how or why but it just does. It gives her a feeling of satisfaction that she's felt when she caught a bail-jumper when she was a bounty hunter. A feeling of success and victory.

She doesn't know why she feels this way but she can't help it. The feeling of wielding a sword and knowing how to use it is exhilarating to her.

Then the area starts to get an orange tint to it and Emma sighs, dreading this moment. It's when she has to go _back_. Back to all the problems and work and everything. She groans.

"Alright, that's it. It's starting to get dark. We should be heading back," Mary Margaret says from her side of the training area. Emma looks at her mother with curious eyes, noticing something. Dean's not there.

"Hey, where's Dean?" Emma asks, scanning the area. She can't find him.

"I'm up here," she hears from above her. She looks up and just wonders why she's surprised.

Dean sits on a branch in a tree not far from her, his bow held in a position against his lap that obviously says that he was shooting from there. She sighs. _Of _course_ Mary Margaret would have him shooting from trees,_ she thinks.

He smiles down at her expression, his teeth glinting. "It's actually not as hard as it looks."

Emma looks back down to Mary Margaret once Dean begins to climb his way back down. Mary Margaret shrugs.

"He was getting too good. He might just have mastered everything that I could teach him. I might be reduced to teaching him how to throw knives the next time we train," she says.

Emma opens her mouth but shuts it. She's not even going to ask how her mother knows how to throw knives.

Dean suddenly lands at the base of the tree, startling Emma a little bit before looking back up at the tree and then down at him. It seems like every time that they train he's just proving Mary Margaret's theory more and more correct.

"Alright. Let's go. I feel like eating a burger. Anyone with me?" he questions, looking at each of them.

Emma's stomach growls lightly at the sound of food. She thanks God that it wasn't that loud but she knows that it will be if she doesn't eat and the sound of food doesn't seem completely unappealing.

"I'm up for it," she says, removing her armor and unbuckling the belt that holds the metal skirt up. "I feel like hot chocolate and a good cheeseburger would do me good right now."

He gives her a grin, punching her arm playfully. "There we go. A girl who isn't afraid to eat. Why can't we have those every day?"

Emma snorts and chuckles at the glare that her father sends Dean from behind his head as he collects the armor and swords. He removes his armguard and glove from his hands, handing the bow to Mary Margaret as he puts the armguards in his back pocket. Emma helps her father puts the armor in the bag and sheath the swords before sending them both away to their lunch, knowing that if they stay any longer it'll start getting dark, which Dean pointed out was not a good thing and Emma, having just had her first experience with demons, would not like to find out what else is out there.


	15. Chapter 15

**Dean**

After Emma and his dinner at Granny's, they walk to her apartment, the darkness of the night already befalling on them. It's only been a week since the incident and the attacks could come any second, minute or day. It gets him paranoid and walk to Wicked Bitch of the West's house to personally check if Henry's bed is circled in salt.

Once he gives Emma a farewell, he takes the short route to the inn, through the alleyways after he checks on his silver, salt and holy water.

When he keeps a regular, relaxed stride after making it passed the second alleyway, the feeling of being followed overwhelms him. He almost groans, stopping in his tracks and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. _One week. Just one week, can nothing happen?_ he begs in his mind.

He stays still for a moment, trying to listen for any noises that a monster would make. Then again, some of them don't even make noises.

He begins to walk again, straining to listen to any footsteps. He counts his first, listening to his steps and trying to catch any other footsteps that are out of his beat.

_One, two, one, two, one, two, one..._ and there they are. Not far from him. He guesses about five feet and getting closer. It's planning to jump him.

Just when he could tell that it's within touching distance, he spins around, nailing a punch to its jaw. The thing goes down, groaning. As far as Dean could tell, it's a man with a receding hairline and a firm build. He seems a bit on the geeky-looking side, actually. But looks can be deceiving.

While the man's down, Dean takes out his holy water, pulling off the cork and splashing some on the man. Nothing. Now for the demon test, he takes out the salt and sprinkles a little at him. Nothing. He takes out his silver knife and takes the man's hand roughly. He gives out a sound of protest but Dean ignores it, slashing the man's palm with the knife. He looks at the man's reaction, only seeing him hiss and wince. He's not crying out like he's burning from the inside out. So shapeshifter is a no-go also.

He lifts the man up by the collar, pinning him to the wall. "Who are you and what do you want?"

The man coughs and Dean finally noticed that he was bleeding by his mouth and he had a split lip. He would almost feel bad if this man wasn't following him.

The man doesn't answer, only looking at Dean's face in a disappointed manner. Dean pulls him back a little bit and them slams him to the wall again, a bit more forcefully than last time.

"You're no demon, no shapeshifter. Not a vamp as far as I can tell. You're just a man and in my life, a man trying to jump me in an alleyway is _way_ to much of luck to have in one week. Who the hell are you?"

The man spits out saliva and blood to the side, finally looking like he's gonna answer. "You'll find out soon enough."

Dean's brows furrow at this, confused. Then he pulls back, piecing it together. He's not alone.

Just when that thought passes his mind, something whacks him over the head, his vision vanishing along with his thoughts.

* * *

"I don't know. I'd expect more of a resistance from this guy. You've heard his reputation, his family's reputation. I thought it'd be a more...fulfilling introduction," a voice outside of him says.

_Its so dark..._

Dean tries to open his eyes, the dull ache of his head slowly fading away. He blinks. realizing that his eyes weren't closed. There's a sack over his head. And there's a rough material that's tied his hands together and his back is pressed against something hard and made of creaky wood. _I'm tied to a chair,_ he thinks as he rolls his eyes under the sack. He realizes that both his feet are also bound to the chair legs, limiting his movement even more. But at least both of his hands are bound _together_. He's not sure if they knew and disarmed him or they left him with it but he keeps a silver blade in his shoe just in case he had some sort of shape-shifter case to deal with. But the question is how to get to it with his hands bound together behind the chair.

He doesn't react, wondering what information he'll get if they believe that he's still unconscious. Maybe he might find out who they are and what they want with him.

"Are you sure that he'd agree?" the male voice asks.

Someone scoffs, based on the pitch, it's a girl. "Of course. If he really is the hero some people describe him and his brother as, he wouldn't be stupid enough to let this magic remain here."

"Yes but...I don't know. Something about him is just...not right..." the male voice says. Dean could feel eyes boring into his head like lasers burning through the sack.

_So, they want to strike some sort of deal with me. Well, they're doing a horrible job convincing me,_ he thinks dejectedly. _At least give me some pie._

After about ten minutes of useless conversation that isn't helping him at all, he sighs, finally annoyed and sure that he won't be able to eavesdrop in anything useful. "Okay, are you going to tell me what this deal is or are you going to keep me waiting?"

He hears no reaction from either of them, not even a shift of clothes that would indicate a flinch. All that happens is the sack being pulled harshly off of him. The rough material scratches his face on the way off but he doesn't even flinch even though there's most likely a red mark. He blinks his eyes, the light of the dimming light bulb flickering brighter and making his eyes tear up. Once his eyes adjust, he looks at his captors. It's a pretty normal looking dark-skinned woman with straight raven hair and the man that he punched in the alley. No one else.

Normally, Dean would be looking around, trying to find something in the area that could assist him in his escape and look for the dagger to finish anything off. But this was different. These weren't demons. These were people. He's only killed out of necessity but right now, they just have him held captive. They aren't pointing guns at him or anything. _At least not yet,_ he thinks. Until then, he'll just sit here and figure out whatever the hell they want with him.

"So, you were awake," the woman says, her expression giving off no emotion.

Dean smirks up at her. "Let's just get on with it. You say what you want, I pretend to think it over, reject the offer and escape. But unless you guys want no trouble, I'd go the easy way where you just let me go and we never speak to each other again."

The woman smirks down at him. "As far as we know about you, Dean Winchester, things never go that way for you, even if you had the intention." The woman walks around him, obviously sizing him up while the man stands there, watching her do it. There was something about the way that his eyes flickered from the woman to him, Dean noticed. It was almost like if he was checking that things didn't get too close or touchy. It was possessive. Dean smirks. These two fuckers obviously share the same bed. Good advantage for him.

"So, what's this fabulous deal that you guys want to make. I'll make it more exciting for you guys and pretend to actually consider it," Dean laughs, looking at both the man and the woman once she's standing in front of him again.

The man steps closer to the two, obviously about to speak up. "Oh, we'll tell you about it but we want to give you some information first...about the harm that this place has done by being here."

Dean furrows his brows. "Harm?"

The woman nods and the man steps forward. "Greg," he introduces, nodding a greeting to Dean who just glares at him in return. The woman lifts her chin higher in dignity, obviously trying to show who's in charge. "Tamara."

Dean looks at the two. "It's nice of you to introduce yourselves but to me you'll always be Douchebag number one"-he points to Greg and then points to Tamara-" and Douchebag number two."

They ignore his remark, turning his chair to a screen. When they turn him, he realizes that the light was streaming in from thins lines between boards that cover a gaping hole, or broken window judging by the too round shape of one exposed edge. Dean recognizes the round shape and boards. He's above the library that Belle works in. In the square. In his peripheral vision, he could see stairs that lead downstairs, obviously to the library. He'll need to get to there to get away.

When his attention turns to a white screen in front of him, which Douchebag #1 and Douchebag #2 stand by.

"Oh, an educational film. What are we watching, School House Rock?" he asks.

They ignore his remark yet again and Douchebag #2 clicks a small remote in her hand and an image flickers into the screen. It's a news report, the bold letters reading "**Make-believe Town Sighted Again?**"

Dean looks at Douchebag #1, raising a brow as if asking _What is this shit?_

"There has been two sightings of this town. The magic of this town masks it from the map and the world. Anyone outside the town line wouldn't be able to see it. After the first person coming in and leaving, he brought back the authorities because an...incident happened and that boy ended up in a mental facility. They kept him there for months, making him believe he was insane, believe that he didn't see what he saw. You've seen what they could do. Rumplestiltskin and Regina. The little boy saw that. And when he tried to tell them that," Douchebag #2 finishes.

Dean stays silent, speechless. All he can say is 'poor kid' but that won't help. He could only wonder where that kid is.

"And you know what this place took from that little boy?" Douchebag #1 asked, making Dean give him a sideways glance. "Hmm? Do you know?"

Dean just stares at him, tilting his head to the side in mock-interest.

"They took away his father," he says with hatred. "And guess who took that from him? It was the Evil Queen, Regina. And because of her, he grew up for years, believing that he was crazy."

Dean raises a brow at him. The little boy was obviously him but Dean decides to keep his mouth shut, knowing that that's the best choice at the moment.

Once Douchebag #2 checks to see if #1 is alright, she clicks a button in the remote in her hand and the news report switches to another one, one that has the bold letters **Fifteenth Crash in Highway 28**.

"When the curse was active, anytime that an outsider gets close to crossing the town line, they ended up crashing or some other accident that forced them to go the other way," she explains. As she speaks, she clicks the small remote in her hand and, one by one, an image of gruesome car crashes are projected onto the screen. One particularly disturbing one that contains a limb that belonged to a nineteen year old college student makes him wince as he looks to the side, trying hard not to linger too much on the way that it wasn't even attached to a shoulder or body.

Dean looks at her. "You're saying that in past-tense."

"Yes, because now that magic is back, it's letting people from this world in and...most likely make them a victim to magic," Douchebag #1 fills him in.

Dean looks at him, furrowing his brow. "Victim?"

Douchebag #1 takes a step toward him but Dean remains unphased. He's dealt with worse. Why should he be scared of this chump? "Magic does nothing but harm and damage the order of things. Magic is what took that little boy's father away. Do you know who that little boy is now?" Dean just stares at him, already knowing the answer. "That little boy was me."

It stays silent as Dean waits for another explanation. He knows all too well the pain of losing a parent and considering that he saw both of them die in front of him, it was even more painful.

"I was sent to a psychiatric ward because of my story. When I took the cops back to go get my dad back, the town wasn't there anymore. The curse kept the outside world from seeing it. After I began to freak out, they took me to a hospital where they deemed me mentally unstable, especially after I started blabbering on about magic and everything. I was stuck there for years, no one listening and thinking that I was insane. And then these people came to me, taking me out and telling me that what I saw was true, that there is magic out there...and how to get rid of it," he finishes.

Dean looks at them both, his brows furrowed. These two are something similar to Hunters?

"Um, explain more?" Dean asks, his eyes flickering from one to the other.

"Think about it, Dean," Douchebag #2 says with a small grin, almost excited. "We're practically fighting for the same thing. We _all_ know that magic doesn't belong here. It needs to go. It does damage wherever it comes."

Dean sighs, looking down as he shakes his head, chuckling at the thought. "We are nothing alike," he chuckles as he looks back up at them. Douchebag #2 steps closer to him, along with Douchebag #1 and she leans closer.

"We are. We both know that it doesn't belong here. It's not natural. Both of us get rid of things that don't belong here-"

"I get rid of things that _kill_ people, not things that don't belong here. There's a difference," Dean corrects, looking at her.

She leans back, standing straight as Douchebag #1 takes a step closer, obviously furious. "Do you know how much pain it must've been for me to have my father taken from me-"

Dean leans his head back and roll his eyes. He was all to familiar with the pain.

"Yes, I do, actually, _Greg_. And I've gotta say that I am very disappointed in what you're turned into. Though, I don't blame you, you were in a mental hospital for most of your life," Dean says.

"Dean," Douchebag #2 says, turning his attention to her. "You should know more than anyone how much magic has damaged the world. It took your mother and _father_ away. You got your revenge, let Greg have his."

Dean glares at them both. "How the hell did you-"

"Your story is all but unknown when it comes to what we do, Dean. There is more of us and you're one of us. You know how much magic-"

Dean snaps his attention to her. "What killed my mom and dad was something _far_ from magic. It was darkness and evil and _that's_ what I kill, not magic."

They both smirk at him. "You'd be surprised how much in common those two have," Douchebag #1 says.

"If this town stays any longer, it will bring trouble. Innocent people will come and we can't let that happen," Douchebag #2 says, her voice strained with anger and irritation.

"If you get rid of this town, you will kill innocent people," Dean counters.

She smirks, chuckling. "They aren't people. They don't belong here."

Dean glares at her. "What about Henry. He's from here. He's just a kid, man. Just a _kid_. Are you really willing to get rid of _one_ kid to 'get your job done'?"

She doesn't even flinch. "Yes."

Dean leans back in his chair, astounded. He couldn't believe his ears. "You know what, I've had enough of this bullshit, let me out of here."

"This is _not_ bullshit! Regina took my father away from me, I need to get him back," Douchebag #1 snaps, getting in Dean's face. "She took my father from me when I was ten, do you know how _painful_ that was?"

"And if you kill Regina, you'll be taking a parent from little eleven-year-old Henry. You're just a damn hypocrite," Dean spits at him.

Before he could register, a fist come to contact with his right cheek, making him spit at the side and look back up at him. He smirks. "Is that all you've got?"

"Greg!" Douchebag #2 snaps. "We could still convince him." She pulls him away and placing herself in front of Dean. He looks at her, raising his brows. What is _that_ supposed to mean? "We were hoping that you wouldn't reduce us to doing this since we thought you actually _cared_ about our cause-" she puts emphasis on 'our', which Dean knows she tried to include him, "-but here it goes...We could help you get to your brother."

Dean could feel his expression fall from amused to shocked and serious. They couldn't possibly mean it. He was already being assisted by the damn Mad Hatter. He didn't need anyone else. Besides, if they were so against magic, how would they know to get to one filled with it?

Still, he was curious as to how they would achieve that. "How?" he questions.

She holds her hand up, showing a clear, marble thing. Dean furrows his brows. "What the hell is that?"

She looks at him with an amused smile. "It's a magic bean."

Dean's brows furrow more. He looks up at her. "They said that there was no more."

"Well, in Regina's secret stash there was and we managed to get a hold of them. If you help us get rid of this town," she raises the bean enticingly, "you get to go save your brother."

Dean bites his lip, wondering if he's actually subconsciously considering this. He shakes his head. It's too high of a price to pay for Sam. Emma and the rest are already assisting him. Besides, if he gets rid of the town, then that means getting rid of Henry and he's not willing to do that. The kid is only eleven. Dean looks up at them, smirking. "No. Fucking. Way, man."

They look at each other then back at him. "What do you mean 'no fucking way'!?"

He looks up at them, his gaze narrowed. "I mean 'no fucking way'."

Douchebag#1 gets in his face, a furious frown set on his face. "Magic took your brother from you yet your willing to protect it-protect _them_!" he hisses.

Dean looks at him straight in the eye. "I'm not defending magic. As far as I am in this shit, I just want to get this over and done with. But if you're threatening the people of this innocent town, you've got another thing comin' your way. These people haven't done _anything_ to deserve this."

"What about Regina and Rumplestiltskin?"

"One of them is a demon and the other is the damn Evil Queen. I'm not sure about you but I've got a feeling that this isn't the first time that's they've done something evil," Dean says but he begins to wonder if they're a threat to the town and, if they are, whether or not he should finish them off. He shakes the thoughts away. Those are thoughts for another day.

"And we could stop her from doing it ever again if we get her of her once and for all, along with the rest of the magic and get to your brother," Douchebag #2 says, her voice determined. Tough luck for her because he's not gonna give in. If this is the price for Sam's life, it might just be too high.

Dean looks at them, a smirk on his face and shakes his head. "No." Both Douchebag #1 and Douchebag #2 lean back, looking at the ceiling and biting their lip, their expressions clearly disappointed and not believing Dean's answer. "Look, you two can go ahead and try to get rid of this town but you're not going to have my help. And if you seriously attempt to get rid of these people, I assure you, you'll have me and my brother to deal with."

They look at him. "And how are you going to do that when your brother isn't even with you. He's in another world and, without our help, you won't be able to get to him."

_Alright, clearly these guys don't know what I've__ been preparing for these passed few weeks. I mean, what the hell would you think if you see people training a guy sword-fighting and archery. It's a nice, good old afternoon just learning to perfect your aim? _He thinks.

"No, I'm _going_ to save my brother, even if it's with or without your help," Dean tells them. They've already had the plans and everything. They would get Jefferson to take them to the Enchanted Forest and then take their chances with the toad. But the bean that they have might be helpful. Once he escapes, maybe he could make a quick nap at them. If he gets them, they wouldn't have to go to the toad and cut their trip a couple days shorter. But to get to that, he'd have to find a way out of this rope that keeps him from doing it...

His eyes flicker to the floor. The room looked pretty decrepit. Maybe there was some debris on the ground, possibly an old nail or something sharp that could assist him. As his eyes skim across the ground casually, something catches his eye. They have his jacket on the ground, only three feet away from his chair and him. He looks passed that, trying not to stare at it too long and give the morons in front of him hints. In his jacket, he keeps at least one knife and the silver blade that he slashed Douchebag #1's palm with. He even saw the silver of the blade peeking from one of the folds, stained with blood and calling to him. _Use me. You have a chance, get out_. It was clear that they threw it carelessly there. _Lucky me,_ he thinks, almost smirking.

He looks back up at them. It was only three feet. He would be able to reach that if he just fell but 'just falling' would be way to suspicious, especially if he landed right next to his jacket. No, he'd need to be pushed or shoved there. Dean knows how to get there. He needs to be beaten until he could reach the blade on his jacket. And hopefully, they don't notice his taking of the blade.

"And how are you so sure about that?" Douchebag #2 asks, tilting her head to the side.

_And I know just who to piss off,_ he thinks, smirking. "Well, I don't know but it certainly wouldn't be using the damn magic bean of yours, bitch, because you're out of your _fucking_ mind if you think that I would help you douchebags to get rid of these guys."

"Hey, don't call her that!" Douchebag #1 snaps. Dean's eyes almost widen in surprise. He was aiming to anger Douchebag #2 and have _her_ beat the crap out of him but apparently he could work too.

Dean turns to him, smirking. "Or what, asshole?"

"Don't make me beat your ass," he responds, obviously heating up.

"Oh, like how I did when you tried to jump me in the alley. Oh, how cute," Dean says.

That earns him a punch to the face. Dean tasted blood and his gums are throbbing and he could feel a warm liquid oozing out of his nose. Damn, this guy's got a hell of a punch but it's not enough to knock Dean over to his jacket. Dean dares to look at him again and spit at him, seeing his crimson-stained saliva land on his white shirt that hides underneath a grey jacket.

"Try again, maybe it would actually make me groan in pain this time," Dean mocks.

That earns him another, this time his cheek received most of the punch and he felt a crunch. His nose suddenly explodes with pain. _Shit,_ he thinks. He could hear Douchebag #2 protest and try to calm Douchebag #1 down but Dean could see that the guy is too angry to listen to her.

Dean looks back up at him and decides to kick it up a notch, trying to get at this guys feels. He smiles. "I wonder how your dad would react if he saw how much of a bitch you turned out. Trying to eliminate a town full of innocent people. He'd probably be disappointed in you."

Then Dean is on the floor, half of his face already bruising and his teeth most likely cracked. Stars dance across his vision as the side of his head bounces off the metal of the floor. Then his guts are being assaulted, a kick bruising his abdomen every three seconds. He almost didn't catch Douchebag #1's words.

"Don't you _ever_ speak of my father that way! He would be proud of me! He would love me! And it's all because of this _damn town_ that he's gone!"

With every word comes a new kick, each less painful than the next. Just when Dean thinks that he's going to pass out from pain, he feels the cloth of his jacket and something sharp nick at his finger. _The blade,_ he thinks, fumbling to get it with his fingers and finally holding it in his palms.

"You're probably one of them. You are, I just know it!" he says, still kicking Dean. One kick nails Dean in the crotch and he gasps in pain, groaning and wanting to double over but the ropes prohibit him from doing such a thing.

Dean lays there on his side, writhing in pain while the man still kicks him, every assault fueled by fury.

"Greg, stop it!" Douchebag #2 finally yells out. She pulls Douchebag #1 away from Dean, pushing him back and giving him a look. He narrows his eyes at her angrily, obviously pissed off that she interrupted his assaulting of the hostage and she props Dean up again while he's gasping for air, panting and groaning in pain. Dean could feel blood running down the side of his face and his head feels like it's turning into stone but he could at least feel the satisfactory of them not finding out about his little scheme. Douchebag #2 comes up to Douchebag #1 again, exchanging a few words with him before he finally nods, calming down. He looks at her again and then at Dean.

"At least let me take a picture of him and send it to them. Maybe they'll give us something that we don't know about him, see if he has any ties that could give us information," he says, taking out his phone and taking a picture of Dean. It must be a poor picture since Dean's face is probably crap and beginning to swell up. He almost smirks when he thinks about his escape plan, knowing that he just needs to cut through the rope. Dean hears the click of the phone snapping a picture and Douchebag #1 walks to the corner of the room, doing his business on it. Dean could care less, really.

He turns his attention to Douchebag #2, straining to hide his smirk.

"You really shouldn't have done that," she says, crossing her arms.

Now Dean lets his smirk out, trying to stay in character and not act suspicious. "What? It's not like this is the first time I insult my captors. This is a walk in the park compared to most situations."

By now, Dean is wielding the small blade in his hand, attempting to saw through the rope without moving his shoulders too much. It would give away that he's sawing away at the ropes.

"You are a very stupid man," she says.

"I've been told," Dean says, smiling as he's halfway done with the first of the three ropes.

"But we do need you," she restates, leaning closer. "You are good at your job and you know what you're doing. We could use a person like you."

The blade nicks at his arm but he barely winces. "I already told you. No fucking way."

She narrows her eyes at him. "This is your last chance. If you don't join us, we're going to have to be forced to get rid of you, one way or another," she pulls out a knife slowly from the inside pocket of her jacket. Dean notices that it's his knife. "And you'll lose your chance to save dear Sammy."

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see Douchebag #1 stare at his screen intently and then snap his head up at Dean, staring at him. Just when he begins to open his mouth to curse, Dean interrupts. "It's Sam, bitch."

He makes it through the last of the first rope and he pulls at them, feeling them come off and fall to the floor, letting his chaffed wrists breathe for a second before he yanks the weapon out of Douchebag #2's hand, shoving her back against the wall at the same time. He cuts away at the rope that ties his feet to the chair legs and jumps to his feet, his limbs protesting. He could see Douchebag #1 try to come to the rescue but Dean turns to him, giving the man a punch that will definitely leave him knocked out with a broken nose.

Dean grabs his jacket, the act of bending over to grab it making his sore abdomen protest in pain and make Dean groan, wincing as he looks around. He needs to go down the stairs. He makes a break for it. Ignoring the increasing pain in his sides and guts, he stomps down the stairs, holding his stomach, trying to push some of the pain down.

As he stumbles over a couple steps and almost trips over the last step, he sees a set of double doors that obviously lead to the library. He just hopes that Belle isn't working today.

He runs at them, full speed, only to have his face slam into them, making his broken nose move from the already crooked form into one that's even more crooked. He curses. They locked the damn things. He doesn't have time to pick the lock. He needs to fight for the keys, even in his weakened condition.

He hears footsteps storm down the stairs, obviously after him. They obviously have the key. He dares to wait there for a couple of seconds, letting his aching body rest for a bit before he springs into action when Douchebag #1 comes into view.

Dean punches him in face, making the man fall to his feet, groaning. Then Douchebag #2 comes out and she and Dean just stand there for a second silently, waiting for the other to make the first move. Then she lashes out. She aims for a punch in the jaw, which Dean dodges and counters by sweeping her feet from under her. He pulls her to him and draws out his knife, holding it at her throat when he sees Douchebag #1 begin to stand. Once he sees the scene, he raises his arms in surrender, a trail of blood running down his nose.

"Which one of you has the keys?" Dean asks, his voice hoarse and weak.

Douchebag #1 raises his right hand higher, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Douchebag #2 begins to shake her head. "No, Greg, don't give them to him-"

Dean presses the knife more into her throat threateningly. "Shut up!" Dean looks back at Douchebag #1. "Keys."

He slowly reaches into his pocket, pulling them out. Dean gestures to the doors. They seemed a bit old. Maybe they're the type that would lock from both sides. If Dean's lucky, they would be those doors. That would take care of his running away problem. "Unlock it."

He walks slowly to the doors, his movements hesitant and reluctant. Then the door clicks and Dean walks to it slowly, stills pressing the knife at Douchebag #2's throat. Then he makes a quick grab at the keys and lets her go and bolts out the door, shutting it behind him. And, it must be his lucky day. It's lockable from both ways. And they can't get out now that he has the keys.

He makes a run for it, swinging the doors of the library open and running into the fresh night air. He takes a deep breath, savoring the scent of something that isn't old and moldy. He needs to stay at someone else's place. It's not safe to stay in his apartment tonight, or at least the rest of the week. He sighs. Looks like he's gonna pay Emma another visit.

* * *

**Greg**

Greg watches as the Winchester runs off, locking them in. He was hoping that he would leave them alone. There was something that he needed to tell Tamara.

"What the hell, Greg?! You shouldn't have let him get away. You know better than this!" she snaps at him, obviously pissed off.

Greg turns to her. "We don't need his help anyways. He's no good to us anymore."

Tamara furrows her brows, confused. "What? Why? He is one of the most famous Hunters and we could've used his help."

Greg shakes his head, beckoning her to follow him as he goes up the stairs. "Listen, you know how I said that something didn't seem right about him and he had this..._thin__g _that just irritated me so much?" Tamara nods, her expression curious. "Well, I sent a picture of him to Them and guess what I found out."

He finally reaches the top of the stairs, going to the corner and bending over to grab his phone, which he dropped when Dean attacked. He turns to Tamara, a smug smirk on his face.

He carefully watches her reaction as it changes from curious and bored to surprised and shocked.

"Oh my God..." She trails off and looks up at him. "They're...they're serious?"

Greg nods, smirking. "Yes. Deadly."

Tamara grins, obviously happy that they would have an excuse to kill the son of a bitch. "Well. What do you know. He's one of them."

Greg takes the phone out of her hand, a smug smile on his face. "And you know what we have to do to anything that's a part of magic," he tells her.

She rolls her eyes, grinning. "Eliminate it."

* * *

**Hey guys! I hope I got you guys thinking and I'm sorry for leaving you in such a confused state (at least I think you're confused) but Dean isn't _just_ there. There's a whole web that's going to be discovered and surprises and ties will be uncovered. I'm not a simple person who makes simple stories. I'll probably be leading you guys to something but then I'll take a whole other turn that you guys won't expect and leave you guys thinking "Whatthefuck?!" So yeah. If you're confused, it'll all make sense in the end, but even _I'm_ not sure if the adventure's over by the time that this particular story is. So yeah...have a nice day.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Emma**

The ringing of the doorbell awoke Emma, making her groan and heave herself up. Who the hell is it? As she struggles to stand straight, she looks at the digital clock on her night stand, rubbing her eyes to clear the blurriness of the red numbers. It was two in the morning.

She curses, muttering under her breath about the torture that her person at the door will endure with her morning crankiness begins to take effect. She steps over the line of salt that circles her bed, taking care not to step on it.

The doorbell rings again, making her groan. "I'm coming", she groans as she walks down the stairs, her light feet padding their way down the stairs. "I'm coming."

Her hand closes over the doorknob, slowly twisting it and shivering at the cold gust of wind that greets her body in the cold of the night.

As she opens her mouth to cuss the person at the door out, she is greeted by a familiar sight. Dean beaten and bloodied. Emma gasps, choking on the curses that are now lodged in her throat. She opens the door wider, her eyes widening also.

"Hey," he greets roughly, his voice so hoarse and strained that she winces at the thought of speaking in such a painful way. He staggers passed the threshold, Emma just watching for a second before the thought of helping him crosses his mind.

She puts an arm under his shoulder, hoisting him up straighter and helping him to the couch. As she lowers him down, she lifts his legs up and puts a pillow below his head, grimacing at the red splotches that grow underneath him.

"Holy shit, what do I do?" she breathes.

"Don't worry."

She jumps at the voice, almost groaning in annoyance when she recognizes the voice. "Oh God…"

She turns slightly, watching Castiel approach, his monotone expression shifting the slightest bit when he sees Dean over the couch. "What happened?"

Dean looks up at him, smirking. "I'll tell you when my throat doesn't have blood and cuts all over it." His complaint is interrupted by a wet cough. He spits out blood, small little drops land on Emma's arm. She struggles not to gag as she feels some of them drip down to the ground, leaving lukewarm trails on her skin.

Emma looks at Castiel. "Just heal him already. We need to know who did this," she says.

Dean coughed, clearing his throat. "It was…it was…" He's interrupted by his own violent fit of coughs that rack his body. He cups his hand in front of his mouth and Emma winces when he spits out blood.

"Okay, that's not a good sign. Castiel, hurry, heal him," she rushes, pulling Castiel to the other side of the couch and putting his hand on Dean's forehead. She watches as Castiel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, building up his heavenly power. Emma looks back down at Dean, watching the cuts on his face seal shut under the blood and the swelling of his bruised face go down. When Dean's face goes back to how it usually looks, he takes a deep, gasping breath, making Emma jump at the desperation of the simple act.

He lets out a long groan, also releasing a cough or two and he sits up, Castiel stepping away from the couch. Emma leans back as she watches, careful that he doesn't hurt himself despite the fact that an angel from the Lord himself just healed him.

"What happened?" she questions, her brows furrowed in worry.

He lets out one last cough before clearing his throat. "I was…" he lets out a couch. "After I dropped you off here…I was walking to the inn and then….these _douchebags_ jumped me."

Emma frowns slightly. Who would think about attacking Dean? As far as she knows, no one here knows Dean nor would have a motivation to attack him or hold a grudge since they tend to keep him at a distance. Sure there were a couple of townsfolk who get attempt to get their means of revenge for problems that occurred in the Enchanted Forest but her and her parents would usually stop them in time.

"Who?' she questions, her gaze narrowed.

He swallows, holding his head in his hands. "Some morons named…Craig and Tamala or something like that."

"Craig and Tamala?" she wonders, trying to think of some people with those names. Tamala obviously isn't one of the names of the attackers so obviously Dean must've gotten that wrong.

She can't remember anyone with a name that's similar to that except…

"Tamara?" she questions, confused.

He nods. "Yeah! That's one. I'm pretty sure I got the other one wrong too. I just acknowledged them as Douchebag #1 and Douchebag #2."

_Craig, Craig, Craig. What rhymes with Craig?_ Emma questions herself. _Meg, Beg…Greg?_ As soon as the thought comes, she gasps in shock. She was a bit suspicious of Tamara but Greg came as a bit of a surprised. The man was in the hospital the first two weeks at the town and has been sticking around for an unknown reason. Since the man attacked Dean, Emma doesn't exactly have a clear idea of what the man wants but she could tell that it isn't a good thing now.

"Why would they attack you?" Castiel questions.

"They wanted my help to destroy the town," he answers, his voice less hoarse than it was before.

Emma's heart skips a beat. "_What?_" she questions.

Dean nods, looking up at her and then at Castiel. "Yeah. They have some sort of grudge against magic. Apparently magic has been in this world more than once and they think that it's a 'no-no'," Dean says. "Can I get something to drink?"

"Oh God," Emma whispers, covering her parted mouth with one hand, ignoring Dean's request. "We've got a do something. We…we gotta tell my parents and stop them."

As she begins to stand, Dean makes a quick grab at her wrist, holding her back. "You're gonna need help. These guys are a bit out there and they're not the only ones. You guys have to have to guard and protect the town if you kick them out once we leave to the Forest. And they have some beans."

Emma looks down at him, the irritation at him grabbing her wrist going away at the information. "What?" she questions.

"When they tried to bribe me to help destroy the town, the offered some beans so that I could get to Sam. They said that they stole it from Regina," he says.

"Stole it from Regina? But things are practically impossible to steal from her. And how would she have magic beans? They were burnt down by Cora a long time ago…" Emma trails off, questioning how much stupider she could get. _Of course Regina would try to grow her own beans_, Emma thinks as she sighs, running a hand down her face. Even when her parents and her entrusted Henry in her hands she goes and pulls shit like this. She would only wonder what would've happened if she kept them any longer.

"I've gotta make a call," she says, turning and heading to the kitchen. She hasn't heard from Regina in a while and she's going to demand Henry back in exchange for a piece of her mind.

"No, don't decide that you're going to snap at Regina, out of all the things that you could do to save the town," Dean tells her. "Right now you've gotta deal with those dipshits. I should probably just go alone to the Enchanted Forest."

Emma looks at him, her expression most likely horrified. How could he think that he could go through it alone? She's only been there once and has died more than once and the lingering danger of Captain Hook wandering around there, obviously seeking some form of revenge against Emma or Gold and try to tag along with Dean who will most likely be oblivious to the whole deal with Hook and Gold. Even though Dean doesn't trust at first impression, he will use someone who is useful to him and Hook most likely knows the forest like the back of his one hand.

She shakes her head. "Oh no. No, Dean. Just…no," she says, pulling away and heading to the kitchen. She hears him stand behind her as she walks.

"Emma, you've gotta take care of the town. You can't just leave it defenseless," he protests.

Emma looks back at him. "They won't. This town is full of knights and bandits and just about anything that can protect it. I'm pretty sure that even the thieves would help because _no one_ wants to die. Besides, we've also got Rumplestiltskin who is also somewhat on our side. They'll be fine while we're gone."

"What about Henry?"

The question jabs at her heart, the imaginary knife that he was using to poke at her heart with his words now impaled it, making her turn back to him, her eyes narrowed.

"Henry will be perfectly fine. He'll be with Mary Margaret and David," she says.

Dean looks at her, his eyes equally as narrowed. Damn it, she wishes that both of them weren't as stubborn then problems like this would be resolved much easier.

"You can't go there alone," she tells him.

"You can't leave Henry alone," he counters, twisting the knife even more. She almost winces, feeling as if it were hurting her physically.

They stand in silence for a moment, both staring each other down. Something inside her snaps.

She turns on her heel, heading for the stairs. "I'm going with you. You can sleep on the couch tonight to be safe. End of discussion."

* * *

**Alice**

_She slams the books down on the table that she just polished harder than necessary. She'd closed the library hours ago, leaving her alone to listen to the echoes of the slamming of the books shake throughout the building. She groans as she runs a hand through her hair, rubbing her eyes with the other. She's beyond exhausted. She's been reading and researching nonstop for hours, trying to figure out what the creature that she's after is supposed to be. She's looked up the number thirteen, since it was the number that the person was impaled across their abdomen, finding nothing new except its relations to demonic activities and number for evil and things. She's looked at files that she managed to get from a friend in the law enforcement department to try to see if any deaths ever took place in that forest and if said person had any grudges against anyone who wasn't pure. As far as she'd read into the files of the victims, all of them had lovers or spouses, obviously indicating that they weren't virgins. She'd read for hours and found no such thing._

"_No recent deaths, no haunted legends, no rumors of curses or witchcraft rituals. This forest is about as virgin as the olive oil in the kitchen!" she breathes, rubbing her temples._

_She groans, picking up the books and placing them back in their rightful place on the bookshelves, one by one, thinking over the case. Nothing was adding up. Everything made about as much sense as her insane aunt, Marylyn. As she climbs up the ladder to place the last one in the empty space five rows up, she pulls out her pocket watch, checking the time. It was nearly midnight._

_She sighs, closing the watch and turning it over, her fingers gently running over the engraved letters. _Albert Liddle,_ it spelled in curvy and twisted calligraphy. She slides the book of urban folklore into its proper space and smiles lightly, reading the rest of the engraving. _7 impossible things, L.C.

_Her uncle, Lewis Carol, was a strange man. He would say strange things, things that didn't make sense to her until his Hunter self was exposed to Alice. He wasn't one that was part of the action such as Alice and many others. He was a provider. Provider of weapons, information, anti-curses, shelter and anything that a Hunter would need. It wasn't until the death of Alice's father when her uncle revealed himself after her suspicions of her father's death being anything but natural or 'just a wild animal attack'. His heart was ripped out of his chest in a violent way while he was in the street the night of her graduation. After the detectives concluded that it was an animal attack, not doing much further investigation, she began her own search but lacerations made from claws that the detectives claimed to be a bear's were too thin. The brown fluffs on his jacket and bunched up in his clenched fist that indicated signs of resistance was not bear's fur. It was hair; _Hair.

_After her breakdown at her uncle's home, he made his confession of his knowledge and part-time "job". After he told her she might be after a werewolf, she decided to train to catch the thing that took her father away from her. Despite her uncle's warnings, she stood strong and didn't back down until her uncle gave in, asking a friend of his who also needed to train his son in the line of work. The man trained who to fight with a knife at close combat, how to shoot firearms and then loaned her purified silver bullets. She soon tracked down the wolf and finished the job. The boy who trained with her was none other than Justin. _Who just lied to me,_ she thinks bitterly, tucking the watch back into her pocket. She wonders if they somehow found what they were hunting, somehow beat her to the catch, wondering if they're out there in the forest with the right weapons and equipment already moving in for the kill. Her stomach churns at the information. They could also be sitting there, doing nothing like she is. _I'm not going to get anywhere just sitting here. I should be the one out there right now, not them.

_She walks to the front doors of the library, blowing out the candles that she lit up for her private research and hastily shrugs on her blue trench coat. _I'm not going to let the damn dark stop me,_ she tells herself as she swings open the door and locks them, leaving for the forest with a lantern that she took from the wall and matches. _I'm not going to let anything stop me.

* * *

_The darkness of the woods is more chilling than she expected. It wraps around her, surrounding her like dark liquid. She scrambles to turn on the lantern in her hand, struggling to make the match in her hand catch fire as she strikes it into the box. After a few feeble attempts and broken matches later, the lantern has a wee, flickering flame in the candle inside. As she looks up, the limited light that surrounds her is enveloped in pitch black darkness. As she walks forward, her senses are on high alert. She bristles when the wind sweeps by, struggling to differentiate the howl that it carries as its own or a wolf's that plans to make her its next meal. It was cold. She could see her misty breath as she exhales, taking in shaky breaths as she continues in her unsettling venture._

_It was truly a chilling setting. It just made her doubt herself more and more, beginning to fill her thoughts with uncertainty and hesitation. But then she remembers that if she doesn't take this case then those idiots at the bar would. She bites her lip, ignoring her fears and continuing on, straightening up and forcing herself to take more self-assured steps._

I could do this,_ she tells herself, raising her lantern higher in the air. As she walks, the sound of a bush rustling startles her, causing her to jump and almost lose her grasp on the lantern. Her hand instinctively reaches for the dagger in her boot, spinning to face the bush so quick that the glasses sitting on her nose nearly flew off her face. She prepares for a fight, holding the knife so hard that her knuckles turn white. She waits a moment, nothing happens. Then a white rabbit pops out, its nose twitching as it sniffs the air. She lets out a breath, tucking the dagger into her boot and turns back to search for the crime scene, hoping that whatever attacked the man left any clues as to what it was. She looks at her pocket watch. The files said that it was about fifteen minutes into the forest from the south entrance if you headed northwest. It's been ten minutes. It couldn't be that far now. She speeds up her pace, trying to get to her destination sooner._

_After a few minutes, she reaches the scene, finding a white outline of a man with his arms spread and his legs crossed over the other. Crimson spots the area of the abdomen and splotches dot the surrounding area. As she examines it, she notices hooves, about the size of a horse's, trot towards the figure, deep and looking like it kicked up dirt. It stops abruptly at the feet of the victim and there are repeated steps, seeming like they step forward and back. Alice furrows her brows, examining it closer._

"_What the hell?" she murmurs, leaning closer as she sees that it distinctly stepped over the body and trots away. She furrows her bro__ws. Maybe the man was attacked by a vengeful horseman spirit? But no, the tracks couldn't have been made by a horse. They were cloven._

A giant goat?_ She suggests lamely. She lets out a breath, scratching her ear. What spirit or creature could this have been? _Maybe it would be a satyr, but in order for that to occur, it would require that they actually _existed_, _she thinks._

"_What could it be?" she murmurs to herself, straightening up and gazing at the tracks, seeing that they came from the north and left in the east. She observes the tracks that lead to the dark, dense woods, wondering if she was stupid enough to follow them. She finds herself stepping along with them. _Apparently I am this stupid,_ she thinks._

_She walks slowly, cautiously, awaiting a quick attack. The trail goes on, leading Alice farther and farther away from civilization. The hairs on her arms stand on end, the chills rippling throughout her body are endless. Whatever is in the forest with her is _bad_. She could just feel it. It's powerful and _mad_. At any moment she could be speared through. Thirteen painful times, it will pierce hers kin past bones and skewering organs. _Maybe I _can't_ do this alone. Maybe I might just be in over my head.

_As soon as the words cross her mind, a sound in the distance makes her snap her head to the left, her brows furrowed. It sounded like a clopping of hooves. Hooves…_

_She looks down at the tracks again, her breathing picking up a notch and becoming more labored now that panic is beginning to make her jumpy. Whatever's in this forest, it knows that she's here and it just found her._

_Despite what her uncle taught her—despite all the things that _other_ hunters have told her distinctly not to do—she runs. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!_ Repeats in her mind like a broken record player. She dashes passed bushes and shrubs, ignoring the pain in her foot when she steps on a particularly sharp rock that managed to dig itself into her sole and hang on, each step digging it deeper and deeper until it breaks the skin of her foot. She begins to run with a limp but she doesn't dare stop. She doesn't know how, she doesn't _why_ but she knows that the thing's on her heels and it knows that she's scared. She doesn't dare stop now._

_Then she's on the ground. She doesn't how she got there but she could obviously pin the blame on a gnarled root that she had not noticed had her foot in a tight grip, not willing to let go. It almost seemed to want to get her killed. As she looks into the distance, the distant sound of hooves clopping on the ground seizes her heart, her cold, dark fear not even letting the sound of her heart pumping to drown out the clopping that will most likely bring her death._

_As the sound of the clopping draws nearer, she swallows a lump in her throat and pulls out her dagger in a last desperate attempt to _'thwack'_ herself loose from the gnarled roots. She hacks at the roots, splintering it and managing to skim the side of her ankle. As she sound of the clopping is only meters away, she's grunting and sobbing as she whacks away at the gnarled roots. She knows that there's no hope for her. She's already a goner. The creature is going to spear her through thirteen times, most likely not giving a though about its victim. She's still a virgin but who knows. This is a creature of darkness, most of them would take anyone._

_As she whacks at it one last time, her uncoordinated hack makes her knife pierce her calf, making her cry out and bring her hands to her mouth at what she'd done. What is she doing? She's losing her head over this one thing? She just stabbed her leg because of her scattered thoughts. She needs to pull herself together. She's got silver and she's got iron and a couple of salt rounds in her musket. If she's going down, she's going down fighting._

_She bites her lower lip and she grips the handle of the knife that is deep into her leg, whimpering when her trembling hand rearranges some of the muscle. She cries out as she yanks it out, tears burning the back of her eyes as she bites the edge of her sleeves and pulls, trying to tears it off. The first time is a failure and she tightens her jaw and yanks again, managing to makes a tear. The clopping is only meters away now._

_She presses the cloth to her wound, looking up into the darkness. Her eyes have adjusted somewhat to the dark, enough for her to see about four meters away from her. The creature should be in her line of sight any second now._

_As she grinds her teeth together and lets one lone tear fall down her cheek, she grips the knife in her other hand tighter, ready to pierce something other than her leg this time._

_The clopping slows down as it nears her, slowly galloping toward her. Whatever it is, it's observing and examining her. She lifts her chin higher, whatever spirit or demon this was, she was going to fight it, whatever the outcome. Then it takes slow, tentative steps toward her and she tightens her grip on the knife's handle, sure that her knuckles are white._

_As a cloven hoof steps into her line of vision, another steps in, farther than the other one. Then a horse's head appears and her breath is frozen, her blood running cold and shock causing her to gape at the creature. Right in the middle of its forehead, sitting proud and graceful was a long, protruding, black horn. It was twisted like taffy and it almost seemed to _glow_ with power. And in all of Alice's years of hunting creatures to save the lives of others, she'd never thought that she would come face to face with a _unicorn_._

_It steps into her view fully, its pitch black eyes looking down at her with awe. It steps closer and she attempts to crawl back, her hands trembling as she points her knife at it, knowing that it stands no chance since she's stuck on the spot by the damn tree root. It looks at the knife curiously and lets out a rough breath, inspecting it. As it rears its head toward her, she's frozen, only watching it sniff the blade and lick it, watching it wipe the blood off of one side and feeling her stomach churn at knowing that her blood was inside of it now. It sniffs it once more and looks down at the leg that's trapped in the tree, the one that's also damaged. She hasn't read much on unicorns. She's only heard stories of their grace and purity. How could _this_ be the creature that has murdered twelve civilians?_

_She pulls herself away from her thoughts when it nears its snout to her. She can't help but flinch and think of gruesome images of it biting her nose off as she listens to the cartilage crunching between its teeth. That sends a shiver down her back, making her close her eyes and purse her lips. Its warm breath blows stray stands of hair from her forehead and she feels it nudge at her glasses. The feeling of its short hairs on the snout brush against her cheeks and forehead make her bristle and she grips the knife tighter, wondering why the hell she's not stabbing the shit out of this creature._

_As it draws back, she cracks her eyes open slightly, peaking at it from behind her glasses, looking up. Its image is blurry since her glasses are low on her nose. She's sees its blurry silhouette stand straight and its horn gleams in the limited light that the moon casts down on them. She sees it glow just a bit brighter and she closes her eyes tightly. It's preparing to skewer her, it's preparing to stab her right through her abdomen where thirteen holes will soon appear. Then she feels a light touch on her forehead, above the space between the eyebrows. Oh, no. It's going to make her death quicker. It's going to skewer her through the head._

_She swallows bile that rises in her throat as tears threaten to escape her tear ducts._

_Images flood her mind, images of others. Others like look like him. They're majestic stallions with horns that protrude from their heads also, some white, some black, some even silver. As sucks in a breath, knowing that these aren't her memories. They are _his_. It's a male, she could tell. It almost seems to be _telling_ her. As she looks through its eyes, she counts each of them. There are thirteen._

_She experiences the sensation of the wind kissing her skin as he gallops with his herd and watching the stars guide them through the night, the moon watching over them. She furrows her brows when she sees two men appear from the trees, both of them whooping and smiling and grinning like drunks. As soon as the smell hits her nostrils, she realizes that they are. Their slurred words are incomprehensible. All that she hears is "horns" and "we'll show them__"._

_Then she hears the gunshots._

_She feels his fear, feels his heart thunder in his chest when he sees crimson circles begin to grow in his herd's coats. She feels his anger and fear when she watches through his eyes as the men walk over to the horned stallions and pull out a hatchet. They aren't dead yet, just wounded and somehow, she knows that they don't die if you just shoot them. You have to take their horn or use another to end their life__._

_Then she feels the pure agony and pain when she watches the men hack at the horns, breaking them off and leaving chunks on the floor. As the horns are chopped off, they become an almost white, translucent silver. She watches as they chop each one off from the bushes that he was hiding in. Seven, eight, nine…_

_She watches the light of each creatures dim into nothingness and the pure horror of the creature that she sees from. Then the last one's horn is chopped off and the drunks whoop and guffaw at their load. They begin to stagger away from the gory scene__—despite the fact that the unicorns were disintegrating—__tripping over each other__'__s legs. She could feel the rage and fury of him and she watches as the two men begin to appear close rand closer, the sensation of wind skim her skin becoming more apparent. He's charging at the two._

_Then they're on the ground, each of them with thirteen holes on their abdomens. There's two. He needs eleven more. _He's counting them down,_ she realizes with a gasp as he pulls them away. She finally recognizes the two drunks, they were the two first victims that were in the files that she read about. They were in possession of twisted, metal rods. She remembered their families claiming the two to be drunk at a party the night of the incident, announcing that they were going to go catch unicorns. They all thought that they'd built them and broken off the bottom to prove that they were chopped off of actual unicorns. But what stumped her is that they only possessed six or seven; they'd killed thirteen. Where were the rest?_

_Then she's back, looking at the gnarled root with her bloodied pant leg and her hand pressing hard on the injured calf. Then she furrows her brows. It doesn't hurt anymore._

_She looks up at the unicorn—she'll _never_ adjust to saying that—to see him look down at her expectantly. It doesn't just kill for the sake of it. It wants _revenge_._

_She looks down at her calf and pulls the bunched off cloth from it, finding that there's nothing but peachy skin underneath, the white light of the moon making it look like milky silk. She looks back up to it to see it raise its cloven hoof and stomp down on the edge of the gnarled root, breaking it instantly. She faces away, avoiding the explosion of splintering wood that threatened to scratch up her face. She looks back to see it nudge the root up with its horn, setting her free._

_Alice looks between it and her leg that is now free. She could run. She could run and research it and prepare for any other surprises of its magical capabilities. Then she could face it again and stop its massacre once and for all._

_But for an unknown, mad reason, she stands up and waits for it to rise and face her. This thing didn't want to kill her. She'd be safe for now. So this thing really isn't after virgins. It turns to its side, not looking at her but she _knows_ what he wants her to do. She lets out a shaky breath and brings her trembling hands to its back, hefting herself onto it, mounting it and gripping its mane to keep herself steady. Then it runs. It dashes passed trees and bushes, elegantly jumping over fallen trees and logs until they both reach a meadow. It's a plain meadow, nothing but long grasses and dandelions and weeds. It slows down, stopping in the middle of the field. She expected a cave or a far off place that no man has gone to yet but no, he stops in the middle of a field._

_She drops to the ground, looking around at the vast, empty field, stumped yet again. Where was his "nest"? She came with him to find his home so that she could come again, this time prepared. Maybe it was never taking her to his home. Maybe it took her here so that no one would hear her cries of pain and scream of agony. Maybe it took her here so that she could take her last breath away from civilization with no hope of being found._

_Then the sound of crumbling rocks and the soft trembling of the ground make her spin on her heel, her mouth parted as she watches the ground in front of the creature cave in, dust in the air and dirt on its hooves. It looks at her and then the hole. It strangely resembled a giant rabbit hole. What is she supposed to do, go down it?_

_She looks at the unicorn to find it staring at her. She bites her lip and hesitantly steps forward, the crumbles docks and dirt crunching under her feet. She winces when she takes another step and ducks under the top of the hole, and continues walking. It was actually more of a tunnel than a hole. It was less narrow and she could stand up straight now as she walks. Then dimness of the tunnel offers limited vision, making her almost trip every once in a while. She could hear the unicorn walk behind her, she hears the clops of his hooves against the gravel of the ground. She doesn't dare slow down, the small fear of him being the death of her still lingering in her mind._

_She squints her eyes when a blue glow catches her eye. It seems far and she's not sure if it's her mind playing games but it moves. It almost like the reflection of water around a curve in the tunnel. She furrows her brows, quickening her pace._

_Once she reaches it and turns the curve, she stops walking, looking at the sight before her. It was dark and the sounds of echoing drops of water make her skin break out in Goosebumps. The reflection of the light comes from a pool of water in the far end of the cave. The unicorn steps passed her, leading her farther into the cave. As she walks, stalactites threaten to impale her head and stalagmites almost seem to be waiting to catch her in case she falls. As they walk further and further, it's harder and harder for her to breathe. When they finally reach the end, the unicorn lays on the floor next to a cave wall. Next to that wall is a giant, reflective wall; it almost seemed like glass. She doesn't know what it's made of but the rock has grown over its edges. What it's for, she doesn't know but she ignores it, turning her attention back to the unicorn. It almost seems to be waiting for her. She hesitates, wondering if she'll ever be able to leave this place. It seems like this creature seems to think that she will stay but she knows that she's got to kill this thing one way or another and she's not going to be able to staying there._

_Despite her thoughts, she walks to him and sits next to him, letting her head lean on the wall and she lets out a long sigh. She almost jumps when the heavy weight of its head settles on her lap and it lets out a rough snort of contentment, closing its eyes and relaxing. _What the hell…_ she wonders as she gazes down at it. _This is the creature that has brutally murdered eleven people?_ She can't blame him though. A werewolf killed her father and now she spends her life hunting down those creatures. When she moves her hand, something metal bumps into another metal thing, making her jump lightly, startled. She turns her head to see six twisted metal thin-cone rods. Wait, no. They aren't metal rods. They're unicorn horns. This is where the rest went. She picks it up gently with her fingertips, feeling the silvery metal underneath her fingertips. It looks so delicate yet she could feel it hum underneath her fingers with power. She sighs. This is what she'll have to slay the unicorn with. He's killing people and the moment is inevitable._

_She leans her head back on the wall, wondering what to do now._

_The sound of something falling brings her to her senses. The crumbling of rocks and dirt caving in make her heart race. It seems to wake up the unicorn also, making his head lift from her lap. It looks at the entrance of the tunnel and Alice hear footsteps crunch on the gravel. Then she hears hushed whispers._

"_It abducted someone. Right now, that person is in danger. Whatever this spirit or creature is, we have to destroy it," a voice whispers. It sounds familiar but she can't put her finger on it. But she has a prett__y good idea who's with them._

"_Rooney knows almost every creature in the book and he's got some special weapons for this particular case," another voice whispers._

"_But we don't even know what it _is_!" another voice joins in and Alice's heart throbs. The voice belonged to none other than Justin._

"_We all have different weapons for a variety of things. We agreed to that. If one of us has a weapon that the other doesn't, we packed enough for each of us," the Irish-accented voice says and dark shadows begin to round the curve of the tunnel and the unicorn begins to stand. Alice jumps to her feet urgently, bringing the unicorn horn that she had with her. She grips it tightly in her hand and picks the rest of for good measure, tucking each of them into her blue trench coat. Those _idiots_ just couldn't stay out of it, could they?_

_When she begins to walk, she looks for the unicorn. Her heart almost stops when she realizes that he's already charging for the men._

"_Run!" is the scream that rips out of her throat without her even processing it._

_They all jump, startled but when they turn to her and their eyes land on the threat, they all move out of the way. Almost each of them curse when the unicorn dashes by them. Alice sprints to them, pulling the twins to the others who all grouped up together. Justin seems the most surprised to find her._

"_Alice! What the hell are you doing here?!" he seems to all but whisper._

_She looks at him. "Same reason as you."_

_She turns around, finding the unicorn on its feet, facing them with his head lowered and his hoof scraping the ground, looking prepared to charge. Alice turns to it fully, __spreading her arms wide protectively in front of the group of men who all stand behind her, dumbfounded._

"_Is that a…" Justin whispers._

"_Yes," Alice replies and she points the horn threateningly at it. It raises its head in realization of who she is and what she's doing. It snorts, taking a step back and walking in a circle around the group. She stays in front of it, circling the group as well to give him the message that she's not going to let him hurt the stupid, idiotic men. She's sure that none of them are virgins and the unicorn wouldn't hurt her._

"_Get out," she whispers to the men when both she and the unicorn are the opposite side of the entrance. She could hear grunts on disagreement and curses._

"_We're staying. You can't take this thing on alone," Justin objects._

"_No. It's completely calm around virgins. You idiots came in and got it all riled up," she tells them, not taking her eyes off of it. It seems to almost look betrayed. "I'm not sure if you remember those stories but unicorns can be tamed by virgins."_

"_Do you see this thing? This thing is _not_ tamed!_" _the Irish-man tells her. She ignores him._

"_Leave. _NOW!_" she tells them._

"_How do we kill it?" Justin asks, clearly ignoring her demand. "Do you kill it with that thing?" he gestures to the horn._

"_Justin, _leave_!" she snaps, noticing that the unicorn is circling them again._

"_I can't just leave you here!" He shouts, standing to her side. She turns to him, beginning to lose her patience._

"_Justin, _leave_! Now!" she tells him._

"_Look out!" a voice booms. Alice instinctively jumps out of the way, as does Justin._

_All hell suddenly broke loose._

_The unicorn was charging at any man in his way and men were scattering, attempting to shoot it and slash at it with their knives. She has managed to give the Irish man and __one of the twins a horn but Justin and the other twin were defenseless._

_When she turned away from giving the Irish man a horn, she turns to see Justin cornered in the back of the cave where she'd found the horns lying and where she and the unicorn had sat and rested. When he wasn't fueled by fury. The fight had somehow moved more to the back of the cave, next to the reflective cave wall. Right now, she was running and crying out for Justin, not wanting his last breaths to be moments away when she's able to do something about it._

_When the unicorn pierces his horn through Justin, impaling him, she lets out a shriek. No, _NO!

_She sprints faster when the unicorn impales him a third time, pulling out while Justin stands there, immobile with his mouth wide open and his face contorted in pain. She catches up, attempting to pull the unicorn away from Justin until it's done. She lets out a cry when Justin drops to the ground like rag doll. She runs to him, dropping to his side and holding his face in both her hands. No, no! Justin was her best friend. She'd be nothing without him._

"_Justin, Justin! Justin, come on. Stay, _stay with me_ Justin!" she cries, holding his hand and feeling it. He was already starting to feel cold but he manages to give her a small squeeze and small smile._

"_Alice…" he whispers gruffly, his voice gurgling and blood pooling in his mouth._

"_No, no," she whispers, trying to make him sit up so that he can spit it out. She groans, spitting blood out and shaking his head at her._

"_Stop…stop it…hurts too…much," he breathes, his face becoming pale. His eyelids begin to droop._

"_No, Justin! Don't go! I didn't get to apologize for the way that I treated you yet, please! Don't go!" she sobs, tears making rivers down her cheeks._

_He smiles, spitting more blood out. "I know…you're s-sorry…" he trails off and he grins, his teeth stained with blood. "You were…just mad. I'm sorry…for not telling them…"_

_He begins to trail off and his breathing become more labored. His eyelids begin to droop and Alice shakes him, trying to get him to wake up. No, he can't just leave. Not yet!_

"_Justin no…" she trails off, her voice cracking._

_He gives her one last smile. "I love you, Alice…"_

_Then he lets out a long breath and stops breathing altogether._

"_Justin," Alice whispers, shaking him. "Justin!" she sobs. "No, Justin, you can't leave me. No!"_

_She hears a voice shout and another scream. She looks up to see the horned beast lunge at one of the men._

Him…

_He was the reason that Justin was dead. If it weren't for him, Justin would be with her, planning and making her happy and just being her friend. Now he's gone._

_She stands, gently laying down Justin's head and placing a delicate kiss to his forehead. She turns back to the beast, looking for all the men. No one else was injured or has died. That means that the unicorn's revenge still hasn't been complete. He just needs one more impure person._

_She sees one of the clones, deciding something. She runs up to him, gripping the edge of his collar. He grunts in surprise and she drags him with her to stand in front of the reflective wall. She whistles and that noise catches the beast's attention._

"_Look. I've got a fresh one!" she shouts, gripping the man's collar harder when he tries to run away._

"_What the hell are you doing?" he asks incredulously. "Do you want to get us killed?"_

_She looks at him. "Bait," she says simply._

_The unicorn is charging at them in no time, already meters away, his head bent down with the horn pointed with clear intent to impale the man's abdomen. When he seems to be about a few meters away, she throws the man to the side, making sure to duck underneath the head of the unicorn. Her small size made that easy and the horn in her hand is inside the creature's chest. Warm liquid oozes over her hands, making her stomach churn but she twists the horn more, remembering that this was the beast that killed Justin just minutes ago. She presses her lips together to keep from letting out a cry when she hears him whinny in pain._

_The expected her back to hit the reflective wall, to have an explosion of glass dig into her back and quite possibly put her out of her misery—she didn't have anyone else. Only her uncle Lewis but he wasn't exactly any help since she never usually stayed with him or anything. She just lived alone and Justin was her only company most of the time. Now she has nothing—but instead she feels like she's falling. Like she's falling and falling and there's no end. It's dark, but she's not sure if that's because her face is stuffed into the unicorn's raven haired chest. Then she closes her eyes and she doesn't open them until she feels herself encased in water, the split second of the pain of falling into concrete and then the cool, fresh resource pull her in. Her senses are dulled and she feels exhausted. Maybe she should just stay there in the depths, let the unknown take her. Maybe it's better than the life she's living. She doesn't have a husband, doesn't have children and her line of work wouldn't allow her those luxuries anyway. So why try? She doesn't have the power to swim anyway._

_So she closes her eyes, hoping that the darkness will take her once and for all. If she were conscious, maybe she would've noticed the arms that wrapped around her waist and brought her to the surface…_

* * *

**Sam**

He shoots up in the mattress, gasping for breath. He lets out a string of curses, trying to catch his breath and holding his throat. It was happening again. That is the second vision and it _still_ wasn't done telling what it needed to tell. Sam sighs, lying back down. He groans when he realizes that it is now a known fact that this vision is going to take a while to finish.

He looks to the side, his eyes trained on a few rough bricks that build up the wall and something white in the corner catches his attention. It flails and waves at him, demanding his attention. He furrows his brows, his breathing still deep as he sits up, wincing at the soreness of his muscles but crawling over to the corner. There's a hole, he realizes, just big enough to fit a piece of cloth that is currently trying to catch his attention. For a minute, Sam just sits there, staring at the white cloth for a while. She should he do, grab it? Talk to the person on the other side?

He settles on pressing it to the ground. The flailing and moving immediately stops and the sound of something shuffling and attempting to look through the hole makes Sam attempt to do the same. The hole gives him a limited view, only catching the edge of a hazel eye and curly brown hair that's messed up.

"Oh, thank God. I'm not alone," a distinctly Irish-accented voice says.

Sam furrows his brows. "How did you know someone was here?"

"I heard you wake up, sounding like you just saved yourself from drowning," the man answers lamely. Sam nods, satisfied.

"Okay. Sorry, if I startled you. My name's Sam. Who are you?"

The man pauses for a minute, his eye squeezes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. "Um…my name is…Gra…Graham Huntert—no, _Humbert_."

* * *

**Dean**

He grabs the backpack from beside the door, checking the time. It was about five am and Emma should still be asleep by then. He knows how much this town needs her. She can't go wasting her precious time helping him find his brother when the town needs their savior. Besides, he could save Sam himself. He already knows the plan, already got his bow—Gipetto apparently constructed him one a couple days before and he's been practicing with it from then on—his glove and armguard. He's dressed for the forest, both he and Emma were to wear normal hiking attire and bring coats, blankets and flasks of water stuffed in their backpacks—Dean actually had more of a satchel-pack thing than a backpack. Both he and Emma were supposed to be armed with a knife and swords—despite his lack of skill—and Dean was the only one with the bow. This mission was meant for help to be included but Emma has to take care of the town.

As he begins to open the door, attempting to make as little noise as possible, the _damn_ voice interrupts him.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?"

Dean lets out a long breath through his teeth. He turns to face Charming standing at the foot of the stairs, staring at him intently. Dean sighs, letting the knob go and putting his hands in the air.

"Alright, you caught me. Where's the sheriff?" he asks.

David shakes his head, approaching the counter and taking a peek at Snow, who sleeps soundly under the covers of the bed next to the kitchen. He looks at Dean as he steps toward the counter and leans on it. He keeps his voice low.

"Listen, I overheard you and Emma last night. I was about to answer the door until I heard her coming down the stairs," he says.

"And even when you heard that I was injured, you didn't think about helping?" Dean questions, trying to change the subject.

"Don't change the subject," Charming says, almost reading Dean's mind. "I know that you think that Emma should stay here and help out around the town but she _is_ the savior. She _does_ have to do some saving but Tamara and Greg aren't a major threat. As far as I can tell, we can take the beans from them and kick them out of town. We'd have to bring that up with Neal, though." Dean stays quiet as he listens to the man. "But right now, she—the _savior_—has to help do a bit of saving."

"But she's going to be gone, she has to take care of the town. She can't do that from the Enchanted Forest," the word sounded foreign on his lips but he focuses on the conversation, ignoring the distracting thoughts.

"Which is why I trust you to bring her back soon. Dean, I don't give the care and safety of my daughter to just anyone anymore. The curse was different. If I didn't let her go, she would've been cursed. But I'm not making the same mistake again," he says. He smiles encouragingly. "I know you'll bring her back."

Dean is speechless. He just stays there, staring at the prince. Then he looks away, sighing and taking off his backpack. Well, there goes his plan.

* * *

After he and Emma park the bug at Jefferson's house, they exit the car, their backpacks hiked up on their backs and their swords and his bow in his hand and the quiver Gipetto also fashioned for him on his back. They could see Jefferson standing at the front, giving each of them a sad smile. They said their goodbyes half an hour ago and Henry promised to take care of his Impala and clean it whenever it got dirty. Dean was almost in tears. He taught the kid well.

After making sure that his bed was circled in salt and other of Emma's friends were safe, they left to Jefferson's house—more like a chateau, though.

They both approach him and Jefferson takes in their appearance. He looks at Dean. "I hope that you find your brother."

Dean gives him a nod of thanks and then looks at Emma. "Are you ready?"

She looks at him and offers him a weak smile. She nods. "Yeah.

They both turn to Jefferson, who holds his hat tightly and looks at them both sincerely. "I hope you guys make it safely."

They all stay silent a moment before Jefferson outstretches his hand, spinning the hat and dropping it to the ground while it spins. A lavender vortex suddenly sprouts from it, making the wind pick up. His hair begins to get messed up, the vortex beginning to get stronger.

"I'm coming Sammy," Dean says. Emma's hand finds his. He looks at her, his brows furrowed. She gives him another encouraging smile and then looks at the portal. They both jump at the same time, ready to face what comes.

* * *

**Hey guys. This is an extra long chapter. I hope it makes up for me being so late (Sorry!) Well, events in the Enchanted Forest in the next chapter! Hope you enjoy.**


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